


Believing in Camels

by kyrieanne



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-05
Updated: 2014-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:58:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 32,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3434426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kyrieanne/pseuds/kyrieanne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>State Auditor Ben Wyatt comes to Pawnee and sends Leslie spiraling because, of course, its not the first time they've met.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**May, 2011**

 

 

 

Leslie could not believe it. Absolutely could not believe it. There was no way this could be happening to her

 

 

 

Surely the universe is mocking her, right?

 

 

 

No master plan. State auditors. And Ben Wyatt.

 

 

 

_Ben F-ing Wyatt._

 

 

Surely, the universe. There is no way this type of thing would just  _happen._ It had to be some sort of object lesson. The type of thing you learn from a good Christmas movie. Those ones where the net holding you up rips and through the magic of Christmas hope and good will towards men and all that you are restored. You  _believe_ again.

 

 

 

Leslie wants to tap the universe on the shoulder and tell it she doesn’t need this particular lesson. She believes enough. She is all belief. It seeps from her pores and bubbles up in her throat. It is there when she makes lists and runs meetings and drinks with her friends. Leslie Knope is a perpetual Christmas movie, betting on hope and dreams and things light as air.

 

 

 

So why is  _Ben F-ing Wyatt_ here? He was the one time in her whole life when that belief shattered. Every memory about them was scorched earth. And then he goes and shows up in Pawnee. Her small town.

 

 

 

How was she supposed to believe that?

 

 

 

_***_

 

 

 

**May, 1999**

 

 

 

On the eve of her college graduation, Leslie Knope got drunk for the first time. Lindsay tried to get her into one of those baby doll dresses, paint her with three or four different lipsticks, and wear some sort of platform Mary Jane’s. Leslie opted out and went for her signature tailored grunge look. It wasn’t easy to pull off since grunge was supposed to be loose and messy. Leslie liked the loose part - comfortable and not too sexualized - but she didn’t do messy. How does a blazer go with messy?

 

 

 

Which is why she ends up in her graduation dress, a black thing her mother bought her without having Leslie try it on. It dipped so low that Leslie actually had cleavage and she let Lindsay give her a tasteful red lip. Lady-like even if Lindsay declared it a ‘Fuck Me’ lip.

 

 

 

“That guy is totally checking you out,” Lindsay shouted in Leslie’s ear an hour after they got to the bar. The music was too loud and there hadn’t been one Mariah Carey or Celine Dion song played yet. Who wanted to dance up on strangers? Wasn’t group sing alongs way more fun? And Lindsay wouldn’t let Leslie order a white wine spritzer. She pushed a rum and coke at Leslie and ordered her to drink up.

 

 

 

Leslie’s head whipped around, “Where?"

 

 

 

“Don’t be so obvious!” Lindsay grabbed her arm, “Ten o’clock in that back booth."

 

 

 

Leslie snuck a glance and she saw him. He had floppy dark brown hair and this really nice green checkered flannel unbuttoned over a white t-shirt. She smiled at him and saw him move. Lindsay saw it too. She grabbed Leslie by the shoulders, “Don’t talk about politics or Pawnee or awesome ladies or whatever you call them. Just be really interested in what he says and have  _fun_!"

 

 

 

And then she was gone and the guy, he was crossing the bar, and Leslie put her hand over her heart. It beat staccato against her ribs. This night, tonight, was the most free she’d ever been. She had no deadlines, no obligations, tomorrow except walking across a stage. She was on a precipice to real adulthood. This was her night. Something big, life changing, was going to happen tonight. She just knew it.

 

 

 

The guy, he was crossing the bar, coming toward her with this gentle smile on his face. The kind in a romantic comedy. Leslie smiled back and when he stepped into her personal space she leaned closer. He ducked his head a little, shyly, and offered a hand, “Hey, I’m Scott."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 2011**

 

 

 

“Leslie, you can’t stay here,” Ann rubbed her temple, “I know you’re mad about the state auditors, but you can’t act like this."

 

 

 

“I’m not going,” Leslie shook her head, “Nope. Not going back."

 

 

 

Ann frowned and sat down on the plastic chair in the ER waiting room. She’d followed Leslie’s panicked text messages down here and now she was being the most beautiful nurse in the world. Leslie couldn’t ask for a better best friend.

 

 

 

But that wasn’t going to change her mind. She was not going back to city hall. She was not going to take that meeting with Ben Wyatt and his associate.

 

 

 

She’s never been so glad that she prepared thoroughly for meetings as she was now. When the city manager’s secretary told her the names of the state auditors some part of her went numb. There may have been a rant in Ron’s office and then she came here. To the hospital and Ann.

 

 

 

“Leslie, what’s going on?"

 

 

 

“I made notecards,” she fisted them in her lap, “and on them are all the reasons why I can’t leave this hospital, Ann. Not until after he is gone."

 

 

 

“Who?”

 

 

 

“Ben Wyatt. Human disaster and life ruiner."

 

 

 

Ann searched Leslie’s expression for some clue, but gave up and asked, “Fine, what are you talking about?"

 

 

 

Leslie took a very deep breath and decided it was time. It was time to tell Ann the one secret in her life she told no one. Surely, she would understand then.

 

 

 

“So the night I graduated from college I got drunk for the first time and there was this guy -,"

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

**May, 1999**

 

 

 

Leslie was trying to follow what Scott was saying, but she wasn’t really interested in what rock music did for the soul. And the floor and ceiling had just switched places. Why were they talking about feeling things down to the soul when the floor and ceiling had just switched places?

 

 

 

“Hey,” she touched his chest, a palm flat right above his heart. It beat heavy and Leslie licked her lips. This was definitely happening. She was totally going to kiss him tonight, “let’s go somewhere quieter. Somewhere we can talk."

 

 

 

He grins and tugs on her hand. She was thinking outside. There was a park across the street from the bar and even in her drunken state (How many rum and cokes had she had?) she could imagine how he would offer her his flannel and then his arm would just end up around her and then they would kiss and it would be sweet and the perfect cap to college.

 

 

 

But he doesn’t tug her outside. He leads her to the back of the bar, to that narrow hall where the bathrooms were. There was a pay phone. The kind with a booth and one of those doors you could shut. Leslie always thought of Superman when she saw one. She wondered how Clark Kent changed in them without people seeing him. She liked Superman. She blinked. Scott was like superman, broad chested and tall. Built had never been her type. Muscles seemed to fit in the realm of jerks, but maybe she’d found the exception. Her own grunge, rock' n' roll Superman…

 

 

 

Before she knows it, Scott is pushing her into the booth and there is a delay as she knocks her head on the plastic window. She utters a groan, and then he is kissing her.

 

 

 

And it is certainly not sweet and not sexy. It isn't anything Leslie would want. His hands are everywhere. He is touching her boobs, squeezing them, and pushing her into the phone. The handset comes off its handle and she can hear the dial tone. It pulses and throws her off.

 

 

 

Scott is hiking her dress up and Leslie has the panicked thought that he wants to have sex with her. In a phone booth. In the back of a bar. Something clears in her head and she pushes at him, but he shakes his head, breaks off his kisses, and mutters, “Come on, you know you’ve been wanting this all night baby,” before diving back at her lips.

 

 

 

She  _did not_ want this, but the alcohol is slowing everything down and her arms are heavy. She tries shouting and maybe she is, but it is hard to tell. His chest is big, too big, and her head hurts and the dial tone is still going.

 

 

 

Then there are hands, not her's or Scott's, but another pair of hands. They lift his body off of hers and she squeezes her eyes shut, feels her knees buckle, and the hands grab her by the shoulders and shake her, “Are you alright?"

 

 

 

When she opens her eyes everything swims, but there is an adorable face. Slight like a humming bird. He has floppy brown hair like Scott and for a second it scares her, but his eyes are different. They are kind.

 

 

 

“I don’t think so,” she stammers. And then she sees Scott getting back up. Someone punched him and he rubs his jaw.

 

 

 

“Fuck you,” he says to both of them and melts away into the dancing crowd.

 

 

 

Leslie swallows. The hands and face belong to a man, a man-boy really, and he tips her chin up, “Why don’t we get you some fresh air?"

 

 

 

“Okay,” she nods and thinks Lindsay should be somewhere, but she isn’t sure where. Lindsay warned her when they got to the bar the policy was to each their own.

 

 

 

And as this different boy tugs her toward the door, his fingers loosely woven with hers, Leslie pressed a hand to her stomach. Her heart wasn’t beating in her throat, but something in her gut felt weird. As if the floor and ceiling, the ground beneath her and the air above her, had just switched places.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 2011**

 

 

 

“Wait, I thought the guy’s name was Scott? Not Ben.” Ann said. She sucked on her soda straw. They had retreated to the cafeteria where they shared a plate of limp cheese fries.

 

 

 

“It was,” Leslie licked cheese off her fingers. She didn’t care what Ann said about preservatives and real cheese. The canned nacho stuff was delicious, “Ben was the guy who rescued me."

 

 

 

“So 13 years ago, this state auditor punched a creep who was trying to force you to have sex when you were too drunk to defend yourself and then he took care of you afterwards because your best friend was a flake?” Ann nodded, “I get it. Total life ruiner."

 

 

 

Leslie closed her eyes and lowered her head into her hands. It must have worried Ann because she pushed the plate of fries away and grabbed Leslie’s hands, pulled them away from her face. “Leslie, whatever it is you can tell me."

 

 

 

She nodded and sighed. Obviously the universe was trying to teach her something, some sort of object lesson like you can’t keep secrets from your best friend or you can’t be ashamed of your past or whatever this was about, but Leslie wasn’t going to fight it any longer.

 

 

 

“I met Ben Wyatt that night and the next night we went out and a week later we slept together and three weeks after that we got married and for almost a year I was in love as much as I think anyone can be."  
  
  
  
  
Ann almost fell out of her chair, "And?"  
  
  
  
  
"And then after all that we got a divorce."


	2. Chapter 2

**May, 2010**

 

 

 

Ann is right - Leslie can’t avoid Ben Wyatt forever. But she can avoid him as long as possible.

  
  
She works from home the rest of the week. To answer Ben’s requests for figures on the Parks department she logs into Ron’s email, which isn’t a big deal because she answers most of Ron’s email for him anyway. She prepares a budget with a 35% cut, but on Friday she has to go into the office to go over it with Ron, who blusters when Leslie says she isn’t going to go to the meeting.

 

 

 

"Leslie, this will be the second meeting in a week I’ve gone to,” his voice breaks, “This is  _intolerable_."

 

 

 

She stands in front of his desk and covers her face with her hands. She will not cry about this, not in the middle of the work day. Ben Wyatt will not have that much control over her.

 

 

 

“Please, Ron,” she whispers.

 

 

 

“Leslie, what is going on?"

 

 

 

She pastes on a  smile, “It’s fine. I just need to opt out of this one. Okay?"

 

 

 

He surveys her and she hopes the sadness is gone or at least diminished. But it probably isn’t because Ron doesn’t push her. He glances at the budget she prepared, leans back in his chair, and says, “If anyone needs their ass kicked let me know."

 

 

 

And she makes it through the rest of the day holding on by her teeth. She hates that even the idea of Ben Wyatt, that being in the same building as him, sets her on edge like this. It made her limbs shake and tears spill over at strange moments, like at a stop light or when Tom asks for a pen or when April rolls her eyes. No one asks why she is so-not-herself, though Jerry brings her chocolate and says, “I have daughters,” which just drives her crazy. No Jerry, I’m not on my period, she wants to shout. Women can be emotional and not be on their period. Except she’s emotional because of a boy and that feels even more cliche.

 

 

 

“Was it bad?” Ann asked when Leslie told her. Her best friend was the greatest creature this side of heaven. She got somebody to cover the rest of her shift and dragged Leslie to the liquor store and then to her couch.

 

 

 

“What divorce isn’t bad?” Leslie picked at the pineapple in the mai-tai Ann made her.

 

 

 

Ann shrugged, “Bruce Willis and Demi Moore seem pretty good friends. People grow apart."

 

 

 

“He was my first everything."

 

 

 

Ann raised her eyebrows, “Everything?"

 

 

 

“Everything. First guy to bring me flowers. To tell me my brain was sexy. To say he loved me. To push me up against a wall and kiss me breathless.  _Everything_."

 

 

 

“Was he your first time?” Ann frowned, “you told me your first time was with some guy at a Model Nations conference your freshman year."

 

 

 

“He wasn’t my first time,” Leslie said, “but he was the first anything that mattered."

 

 

 

“Oh Leslie,” Ann said. She grasped Leslie’s hand and held it while she cried.

 

 

 

And now, now Leslie is barely holding on because marrying Ben Wyatt broke her heart. She just needs to get home. There she’ll have the whole weekend to get a hold of herself. She can look in the mirror and remind herself that she wasn’t that girl anymore. Ben Wyatt was hardly anything to her anymore. He was nothing more than a terrible mistake.

 

 

 

She does it. She hangs on all day - through the meetings and worried texts from Ann - and when the clock reads 6:00 p.m. and city hall is dark she breathes a sigh of relief. She has made it. She only has to drop off something at Records on the third floor and then she can leave, pick up JJ’s, and lose herself in a good bioepic. Really, she is quite proud of herself.

 

 

 

She punches the elevator button twice and when the doors open all that pride and self-satisfaction drain at her feet because standing in front of her is Ben Wyatt.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 1999**

 

 

 

“So, um, I thought we’d go to the Biddle Hotel,” Ben grips the steering wheel.

 

 

 

Leslie wipes her hands on her knees. She smiles and ducks her head, “I’ve never been there."

 

 

 

“Really?"

 

 

 

“It’s the fancy place to go on campus,” she says as if this is an explanation

 

 

 

He frowns, “My friend, the one I told you about…"

 

 

 

“Theo. The one whose graduation you came down for?”

 

 

 

“Yeah,” his eyes dart toward the road, “he said it was nice. That it was were you took a girl you want to impress."

 

 

 

She smiles, “Are you trying to impress me?”

 

 

 

And he looks at her and this smile spreads across his features, not only with his lips but also his eyes and every part of his adorable face.

 

 

 

A face she’s wanted to kiss since last night when he took her outside the bar and waited for a cab with her. They sat on a park bench and talked. The whole conversation was a bit fuzzy, but the part this morning when he called her to see if she was alright, that part she remembers perfectly. He snuck in the bit about dinner nonchalantly like it was no big deal, but the pause after he asked the question told her how nervous he really was. All of this she remembers perfectly and now he is looking at her like her teasing him makes him happy. Really happy.

 

 

 

"I am trying to impress you,” he says, “is it working?"

 

 

 

She tucks a curl behind her ear, “Yeah. It is,”  
  
  
  
And then she tells him something that she would never say on a first date except that this feels different. Ben may make her nervous, but it is the butterflies kind of nervous. It isn't the kind of nervous she usually feels on first dates, which is really a mixture of dread and fear of saying the wrong thing. She tells him, “I’ve never been the Biddle Hotel because there has never been a guy before who has wanted to take me there. To impress me, I guess."

 

 

 

He clears his throat, “Well, I definitely am. Totally am."

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

**May, 2010**

 

 

 

He doesn’t see her right away. He’s reading some sort of padfolio and she just stands there waiting like an idiot. But this time she’s not going to let him turn her into a fool again.

 

 

 

“You’re a jerk,” she says. He doubles when he sees her and she steps onto the elevator, a finger pushing into his padfolio, “How dare you show up and threaten my town and my job! Show up and not even tell me."

 

 

 

“Nice to see you too Leslie,” he stumbles. The elevator doors close behind them. He looks so bewildered, so uncomfortable, that it throws her, but then he smiles at her. It is just a corner of his mouth. It tips up and it's just infuriating. She turns away and punches the button to go to the third floor.

 

 

 

“I tried to get out of the assignment,” he says to her back, “And when I couldn’t I called your office to warn you I was coming to Pawnee, but you never called me back."

 

 

 

“April doesn’t do messages,” Leslie mutters. She faces him, hugs her stomach, “I don’t want you here."

 

 

 

He swallows hard, “I’m just trying to do my job. A few weeks and I’ll be gone."

 

 

 

She punches the button again, but the elevator jerks and then stops. She tries the button for the doors, but they won’t open. She tries all of them, lighting them up, but the elevator doesn’t move, “What the hell?” she hits them again. Ben moves over her shoulder.

 

 

 

“Here, let me help -,"

 

 

 

“I don’t want your help!” She turns and he is right there in her personal space. She can see he didn’t shave this morning and the knot on his stupid skinny tie has come loose.

 

 

 

He ducks his head and steps back, “I’m sorry."

 

 

 

She can feel his gaze on her back as she tries the buttons, reads the instructions on the panel, and tries the emergency phone, but nothing works. The doors just won’t open.

 

 

 

“Seriously?” she leans against the wall and slides down to the floor, “what the hell universe?"

 

 

 

Ben sighs and sinks to the floor too. They sit there not looking at one another until Ben says exactly what she is thinking, “It’s like our first date all over again."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 1997**

 

 

 

“Leslie, I’m so sorry,” Ben lolls his head toward her. They lean side by side against the back wall of the elevator in the Biddle Hotel. She leans into the pressure of his shoulder against hers.

 

 

 

“It’s not your fault,” she says.

 

 

 

“I just thought you’d like the view from the observation deck. I thought you'd like to see your campus lit up at night."

 

 

 

“Who knew the elevator would get stuck?” she shrugs. “Besides, I bet it’ll be like half an hour, tops. The maintenance guy said they were working on it.”

 

 

 

“Then you can get to your graduation parties."

 

 

 

She looks at him. His hair seemed to have a life of its own. She can tell he tried to smooth it down with gel, but she likes it sticking up all over the place. He is doing it again, trying to act nonchalant, but she can read his nerves from the way he won’t quite look at her. She is pretty sure she could read anything in his expression.

 

 

 

“Stop,” she knocks his shoulder, “I want to be here with you. Not out at a bunch of parties with people I don’t know."

 

 

 

“We just met."

 

 

 

“Doesn’t mean we don’t know each other,” she leans into him.

 

 

 

It is true. They spent four hours at dinner talking before the restaurant closed down. He asked her about her plans after graduation. He listened while she went on about Pawnee and how she was going to get a job in government.

 

 

 

“You want to run for public office, right?” he asked at one point and she felt a blush rise up in her neck. She nodded and he confessed he had been a teen mayor and she couldn’t believe she was on a real date with Benji Wyatt, “Don’t be jealous,” he said, “it pretty much ruined my life. But you,” he smiled, “you will kick ass. I know it."

 

 

 

And to make it fair she confessed how growing up in her mother’s shadow hadn’t been easy. Ben told her about the accounting firm he worked for in Chicago. He’d gone to Northwestern and graduated a year ago. He brushed it off, but he told her how after college it wasn’t easy to make friends. He is lonely in Chicago. Theo is his best friend from childhood and Ben came down cause when you don’t have a lot of friends that's what you do.

 

 

 

“Shouldn’t you be the one who is upset,” she says now, “Weren’t you supposed to spend the weekend with Theo?"

 

 

 

Ben laughs, “Trust me, he’s busy hitting on sorority girls. I would be terrible company right now."

 

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

 

“Cause I’d be thinking about you,” he confesses. She turns her body toward him and he does the same. They lean against the wall and he lifts a hand then to run his thumb along her cheek. It is gentle and she exhales against his wrist, “I’d be thinking about how much I want to kiss you” he whispers, “I really want to kiss you."

 

 

 

“Why haven’t yo-,” she gets half the sentence out and then he is pushing her up against the wall of the elevator. He is over her, but it is nothing like last night. He is not overpowering or scary. His body sends shivers through her arms and legs. It is gentle and reverent. He doesn’t kiss her right away. Instead, he looks at her as if he cannot believe she is in his arms, like she is gorgeous.

 

 

 

Then he tips his forehead to hers and she sighs under him. And as if it were the most natural thing in the world he leans to press his lips to hers. The first touch is tentative, but she meets him half way and that is enough encouragement. He cradles her head in both hands and kiss her thoroughly. She opens her mouth and reaches for his shoulders to pull him closer. His lips are sweet and firm and when he angles his head to kiss her harder she moans somewhere in the back of her throat.

 

 

 

At first she is afraid it will weird him out, but it doesn’t. He presses closer and Leslie can feel it, the heat simmer just under the surface for both of them. Their limbs are a mess of loose and heavy. He breaks away from her lips and kisses her cheeks, her forehead, and her lips again before moving down the column of her throat.

 

 

 

“Damn,” he whispers against her pulse point, “you are soft. How is your skin so soft?"

 

 

 

“I moisturize,” she says and he chuckles against her lips, “How are you so good at this?” she mutters as his hands caress her shoulders, the sides of her breasts, and cup her ass.

 

 

 

“It’s you,” he leans his forehead against her again, “Leslie, I know I’m going to sound like a crazy person, but can you feel this between us? Am I crazy?"

 

 

 

There is this pooling feeling going on in her as if she is melting and coming together at the same time. It is heady like a strong wine, but without the fuzziness. Everything - the scruff from his five o’clock shadow against her cheek and his hands inching down her thighs - all of it is heightened. He steals her very breath away.

 

 

 

“You’re not crazy,” she arches her back. The Calvin Klein dress she borrowed from Lindsay is inching up and she is rapidly trying to decide if they have enough time to have sex in this elevator when there is a ding and the doors open.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 2010**

 

 

 

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Leslie snaps.

 

 

 

“I’m just saying it’s weird,” he smiles and when she doesn’t return it he rubs his temples, “You know this isn’t easy on me either."

 

 

 

She snorts, “You were the one who ended it."

 

 

 

“No,” he sits up. “No. No. No. You don’t get to rewrite history."

 

 

 

“You gave me an ultimatum!"

 

 

 

“And you were the one who filed for divorce!"

 

 

 

“What choice did you give me? It was either your life or mine."

 

 

 

“That’s not true. I wanted to compromise, but you had already decided I was married to Chicago. That I could never move to Indiana."

 

 

 

“Well, looks like I was wrong about that,” she hits her palm on the floor, “cause here you are!"

 

 

 

“Here I am!” he shouts, “And that drives you crazy, doesn’t it? That your excuse for bailing on us didn’t even hold up.”

 

 

 

They are both breathing heavy and Leslie presses a palm to her chest. Her heart is pounding in her throat. She looks away and down,“Whatever. It doesn’t matter. It was a thousand years ago. I’m not that lovesick girl anymore."

 

 

 

He flinches and holds up his hands, “Well, I’m glad then. That means I can’t hurt you and if you believe anything about me, I hope you know I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

 

 

Even if Leslie had words she can’t say them because at that exact moment the elevator doors slide open.  
  



	3. Chapter 3

**May, 2010**  
  
After the elevator it is impossible for Leslie to avoid Ben. Ron orders her to be at the next round of budget meetings and she knows she needs to be in the room. The very future of the Parks department depends on her and Ben Wyatt isn’t going to keep her from doing her job

 

  
So she musters her resolve and chants the names of awesome ladie  _Hilary…Eleanor…Geraldine_ … like a mantra as she walks into the conference room. She holds herself together even when she goes two rounds with Ben about cutting funding for Camp Athena and canceling the children’s concert. She shakes as she lowers herself back into her chair, trembles in her abdomen, and grips the chair until her nails turn pink

 

 

 

“Leslie, what was that?”  
  
  
  
Afterward, Ron chases her down the hall. Her heels pound the linoleum and it is a good thing she knows Pioneer Hall as well as she knows her own house because her tears blur everything

 

 

 

She blusters into the bathroom where Ron won’t follow her. She hides in a stall and leans against the door. Her breath tumbles out in staggered hiccups as she tries to hem the emotions in, but it is like trying to draw a line around the ocean

 

 

 

 _How could he still do that to her?_ She is a grown woman. It has been thirteen years, thirteen years with multiple relationships separating her heart from him, and still he can unnerve her like this. All he had to do was tip an eyebrow or make a sarcastic comment or  give her a doubting look all of the things she felt when they broke up come rushing back. The doubt and sadness and anger are all there and they are acute

 

 

 

“Leslie?” Ann calls

 

 

 

“In here.”

 

 

 

“I was waiting in your office with lunch. Ron found me,” Ann says. Leslie hears the bathroom door lock and Ann’s heels on the tile floor. Leslie grabs a wad of toilet paper and emerges from the stall, rubbing the smudged makeup from underneath her eyes. Ann leans against the counter with her arms crossed. She frowns when she sees Leslie, “Ron said you called Ben a liver-bellied fink."

 

 

 

“He said we can’t have the children’s concert and when I said I would get volunteers, he told me no. He lectured me in front of the whole room about me being unrealistic. There would be a surprise bill somewhere and the city didn’t have the money to pick up unaccounted for expenses."

 

 

 

Ann touches Leslie’s elbow, “Leslie, he doesn’t know you and he doesn’t know Pawnee. He’s a jerk."

 

 

 

Leslie bends over the counter, props her elbows up, and leans her face into her palms. She takes a couple shuddering breaths and feels the trembling in her limbs subside slowly. She stays in that position until she begins to feel steady again.

 

 

 

“I called him an ass. And a numbers robot and heartless prick and turd boy. I may have suggested a few things he could do with his excel spreadsheets too."

 

 

 

Ann laughs, “Good."

 

 

 

But Leslie shakes her head, “But it wasn’t just me. He didn’t single out my programs or treat me any differently than anyone else in the room. In fact, he praised Camp Athena in front of everyone. He said it was the first thing he and Chris were going to recommend returning funding to once the city was in a better position. I was the one who started the fight."

 

 

 

“Leslie, you don’t have to defend him.”

 

 

 

“I’m not,” she stands up and looks at her best friend, “but I do have to remind myself of the facts. He isn’t here to hurt me. He’s just trying to do his job."

 

 

 

“And you have to do yours,” Ann says, “You can’t fall apart every time you see him. There’s got to be a solution."

 

 

 

The idea dawns on Leslie like all of her best ideas do.

 

 

 

“Ann, Chris keeps asking you out, right?"

 

 

 

“Yeah, um he was at April’s birthday party and then you freaked out cause you thought Ben might show up and hid in the bathroom. You made me go talk to Chris to find out.”

 

 

 

“And you kissed him!"

 

 

 

“Cause I was drunk because I just dumped Mark…” Ann trails.

 

 

 

Leslie waves a hand dismissively, “But you used tongue which means you must have liked it. And he keeps asking you out which means he liked it too."

 

 

 

“Leslie, where are you going with this?"

 

 

 

“I only have one question, Ann,” Leslie grins, “Are you willing to do what a prostitute does?”

 

 

 

“Um...”

 

 

 

“Except not for money?"

 

 

 

“You want me to have sex with Chris?"

 

 

 

“More like go on a date with him and convince him to restore funding for the children’s concert,” Leslie grins, “Ben Wyatt is not the only state auditor making the decisions.”

 

 

 

**

 

**May, 2010**

 

“It’s not easy to bring up Freddy Spaghetti on a date, Leslie,” Ann hisses into the phone.

 

 

 

“Yes, it is  _Hey, Chris what are you going to have for dinner? I’m going to have spaghetti. Have you ever heard of my friend, Freddy?_  See I did it in like three moves.” Leslie counters.

 

 

 

“Then why don’t you come down here and do it yourself."

 

 

 

Ann jumps a mile when Leslie taps her on the shoulder. Why her best friend is surprised Leslie followed them on their date, Leslie doesn’t know. She told Ann she would be with her the whole time. She wore her sneak around clothes. Did Ann really think that meant Leslie would just sit home on the couch and wait by the phone?

 

 

 

Chris is generous and effervescent as Leslie explains the need for the concert, but Leslie doesn’t trust his enthusiasm. He agrees with her so rapidly that she doesn’t have a chance to state the argument she wrote. And very quickly, Leslie realizes that this plan didn’t matter. Even if Chris agreed, Ben is the half of the partnership with gravitas. His word means something even if it that word was no.

 

 

 

_I always liked that about him._

 

 

 

The thought is a stray one and it sneaks in when Chris is talking.

 

 

 

She did like that about him. Ben was honest. When they were younger it had been sexy. His feelings tumbled out in romantic declarations and Leslie believed each one because it had been so genuine. There was never any duplicity in those first days. She not only believed his love, but felt it down in the marrow of her bones. She had felt loved by Ben Wyatt, recklessly and ridiculously loved.

 

 

 

He was still honest, but something had changed. He had hardened. Now he was about numbers and cold hard facts. It had made him cynical and that makes Leslie sad. What had happened to him? She mourns the loss of the sweet, romantic man she married and she wonders if maybe she might have had a hand in his demise.

 

 

 

“Well, well, well!"

 

 

 

“Ben, what a fun surprise!”

 

 

 

Leslie looks up to see Ben, in that stupid windbreaker that should die a quick death, saddling up to the table with a smug look on his face.

 

 

 

“That’s right you were coming here on a date. And hey, Leslie is joining you on this wonderfully romantic occasion. How about that!"

 

 

 

“Fantastic!"

 

 

 

Leslie ignores Chris, her annoyance growing with every second, “It is,” she says. Ben ignores Chris too. He tips those damn eyebrows up and crosses his arms toward her as if she owed him an explanation, “Can I talk to you?” she stands, “Over there. For a sec."

 

 

 

She navigates around the tables draped in white linens, past the diners clinking silver, and all the way to the back hall where the bathrooms are. She passes a pay phone, the kind that hangs on the wall, remembers that first night she met Ben and impulsively she storms into the women’s bathroom. Unlike Ron, Ben follows her. It is one of those single bathrooms and Ben flips the lock to prevent anyone from walking in on them.

 

 

 

“What are you doing here?” She paces.

 

 

 

“Confirming my suspicion.”

 

 

 

“What are you talking about? I had nothing to do with this date."

 

 

 

“Uh huh."

 

 

 

“They’re both so beautiful that they probably just want to see each other naked.”

 

 

 

“Well, I know what you’re trying to do,” Ben grabs her elbow, “and you’re not that good at being sneaky."

 

 

 

“Yes, I am!"

 

 

 

“No, you’re not."

 

 

 

“I’m great at being sneaky."

 

 

 

“Clearly you’re not because I am here."

 

 

 

“That doesn’t count. You know me!"

 

 

 

He is still holding onto her elbow and Leslie realizes they are standing inches apart. His fingers move on her arm, adjust, and find a gentler hold, as if he doesn’t want to let go. She watches his adam’s apple move up and down and she feels her own throat tighten.

 

 

 

“You're right. I do know you, Leslie,” he says quietly and leans his head down to meet her gaze, “I know how hard this has to be for you."

 

 

 

“No, you don’t,” she looks away, “It’s been thirteen years."

 

 

 

“And you haven’t changed. Grown, but not changed,” his thumb moves up and down along her arm when he says it. Even through her blazer Leslie can feel it. It is movement that is meant to calm and assure, “You’re still passionate and hard working and I’m sorry this is happening."

 

 

 

“Thank you,” she murmurs, but still doesn’t look at him.

 

 

 

He tugs on her arm, pulling her an inch closer, “Please know I don’t want to hurt you. Not personally or professionally."

 

 

 

Her eyes flick up now. He is looking at her as if her response decides if he takes his next breath. His face is gentle and the smug man who just a few minutes ago caught her trying to influence his partner, that man is gone.

 

 

 

It occurs to her that if he still has the power to make her come undone, that maybe she does too.

 

 

 

And like all of Leslie’s ideas her next one dawns on her, blinking into existence like a star, suddenly and fantastically.

 

 

 

She lifts her head, closes the gap, and kisses him.

 

 

 

Her finger tips brush the back of his neck and inch into his hair. His response is immediate. His hand drops from her elbow and finds her lower back. He pulls her against his body. Leslie gasps against his lips and he bends his head to get a better angle. Whatever hesitancy there was between them evaporates as every sense and every thought is taken over by Ben.

 

 

His hands snake up her body and cup her face. He tangles his hands in her hair, pulling her head back, and rooting himself at her throat. His lips trail across her pulse point, her collar bone, and back up to her mouth, his tongue slipping past her lips. He just can’t get enough of her. He is devouring her. Leslie feels him backing her up until the back of her knees hit something soft. It takes her by surprise, but then she remembers they are in a fancy restaurant and the women’s bathroom has one of those settees. She sinks down and Ben sinks with her. He covers her, his knees digging into the cushions.

 

 

 

“Fuck,” he says against her mouth and she moans something incomprehensible in the back of her throat. This spurs him on and his hands move down the front of her shirt, pushing her blazer aside, and slip inside to cup her breast through her bra. When his thumb pushes the strap down and rubs against her nipple, slivers of pleasure shoot through her. It focuses her and she regains something like real thought. Her hands find life again and they tug at his belt. It is Ben’s turn to moan and Leslie has the wicked thought that it isn’t just her. He is coming undone.

 

 

 

She abandons the belt and cups the front of his pants. She can feel how much he is coming undone. They are shaking in each other’s arms.

 

 

 

And that is the thought that ruins it.

 

 

 

This is a terrible and wonderful idea. Like scaling a cliff, it is exhilarating, but at any moment one of them is going to fall.

 

 

 

“Stop,” she chokes, “stop, please."

 

 

 

He pulls away, breathing heavy, and Leslie wants to cry when his hands don’t let go. He is gripping her arms and his thumb returns to that simple gesture, rubbing along the inside of her elbow. It is a calm, assured movement.

 

 

“We can’t do this.” She sits forward and he climbs off her. Immediately, she misses the heat and weight of him.

 

 

 

“Leslie."

 

 

 

“Can you say something else?” she snaps.

 

 

 

He furrows his brow and he sinks down next to her on the settee, “I’m sorry."

 

 

 

“You keep apologizing.”

 

 

 

“And you keep yelling at me, but then you go and kiss me so what’s up with that?"

 

 

 

She doesn’t have an answer, not one that makes sense. All she can do is tell him the truth, “I don’t like what you do to me when I’m near you. You make me crazy. You turn me into a crying, crazy mess and then I just want to kiss your dumb face which drives me even crazier.”

 

 

 

It is surprisingly easy to tell Ben the truth. Maybe it is because he is so honest. His face changes when she tells him, it softens and he exhales. Maybe it is easy because they have a history. Maybe it is easy because it has always been easy. She’d been telling him the truth since their first date.

 

 

 

“What do you want me to do, Leslie?"

 

 

 

“I want you to do your job and I want to do mine."

 

 

 

“In our last meeting you told me to take my tie and hang myself with it."

 

 

 

“You said slides weren’t a priority."

 

 

 

He laughs a little, as if that perfectly reasonable explanation is amusing somehow. He sighs and runs his hand through his hair, “I’m just saying if what you want is to find a way to work together then you can’t take my recommendations personally. It’s my job to make cuts to budgets. It's not a way to get back at you."

 

 

 

“Why would you need to get back at me?” She says, “You’re the one who screwed up…"

 

 

 

Ben holds up both hands, “Can we just deal with right now?"

 

 

 

She nods and tucks her legs up under her, “I will try to refrain from yelling and name calling."

 

 

 

“And I’ll stop being a smart ass."

 

 

 

“And you can’t look at me like that."

 

 

 

“Like what?"

 

 

 

“Like you are right now. Like you know what I’m thinking and feeling cause you think you know me."

 

 

 

He shifts and leans and elbow on the back of the settee, “You mean how I know you’re feeling exposed and you really want breakfast food right now? You want to go home and get into your favorite Indiana U t-shirt, which probably has holes in it by now. You’ll put your waffles on that purple plate you own, the one that doesn’t match your dishes, but you love it cause the lip is wide and it pools the maple syrup perfectly. And then you’ll curl up with a book, probably a political biography because those are the ones that inspire you. And then you’ll read until you fall asleep because that is how you retreat when you feel exposed. You crawl into everything that makes you happy so when you wake up you’re happy again."

 

 

 

She can scarcely breathe. “Yeah, that. Stop looking at me like that."

 

 

 

He thins his lips and nods, “I’ll try not to look at you or whatever it is that you think I’m doing, but that doesn’t mean I can stop knowing you. That’s never going to change. I know you, Leslie, and I’m proud of that."

 

 

**

 

 

 

**May, 1997**

 

 

 

Leslie exhales a long, throaty moan as Ben falls into her shoulder. They are both coming down from their orgasms and she stretches her toes and flexes her fingers, which play along his back. His hair brushes her chin and he is still exhaling. She did that to him. It makes her smile.

 

 

 

“Fuck,” he kisses her shoulder, “Fuck."

 

 

 

It is what he says when she has overwhelmed him. She knows that now. Even after just a week, she knows that little fact about Ben Wyatt.

 

 

 

He knows her too. He knows the look she makes when she gets a great idea. He knows about her love of waffles, for adorable nerd accountants like him, and her hometown. He pointed out that she bites her lip when she is thinking and that she has a curl that never wants to stay off her forehead no matter how many times he brushes it away. He knows how to make her body hum and pool beneath his hands. He knows her and he still wants to know more. It strikes her as wildly romantic. To fascinate someone. That’s what he told her on their second date, that he found her fascinating.

 

 

 

She could spend the rest of her life feeling like this, knowing someone was totally on board with who she is, and it occurs to Leslie that is what love must be like and then as if it were the second half of the same thought, Leslie realizes she feels the same way about Ben. She knows him and she wants to keep on knowing him. She is fascinated by him.

 

 

 

And the idea just pops into her mind, a brilliant shining idea.

 

 

 

“Ben?"

 

 

 

“Hmmm?"

 

 

 

“Let’s get married.”


	4. Chapter 4

**December, 1997**

 

“I can’t believe I let you convince me to choose  _Un-Break My Heart_ as our wedding song,” Ben says into Leslie’s shoulder.

  
She looks up from the book she is reading to see Toni Braxton’s music video - which features the sexiest round of  _Twister_ Leslie has ever seen - playing on the television. Ben is watching one of those end-of-the-year in review shows and apparently the song made the cut.

 

They lay supine on the couch, Ben pressed to her back, and Leslie hanging over the edge. Their legs are tangled together and Ben kisses the bare skin that peaks through the stretched out collar of her favorite Indiana U t-shirt.

 

“It was the song that was playing when you punched that guy,” she says

 

“Let’s not think about that night,” Ben mutters and goes back to kissing the length of her throat.

 

He didn’t like to think about how they met or what could have happened if he hadn’t shown up. It makes him angry. Secretly it thrills Leslie just a little that Ben punched a guy for her. She isn’t the type of girl who dreamed of being rescued. She could do her own rescuing, thank you very much. But that night she had been stupid and drank too much. Lindsay hadn’t been a good friend and she followed a stranger into a dark lonely part of a bar. And Ben had been there when she needed someone.

 

It is one of her favorite qualities - Ben’s steadiness. He has his moments of wild romanticism - like when he agreed to her impulsive plan to get married three weeks after meeting - but at his core he is pragmatic. When she graduated from college without a job or plan (since her plan had been to move back to Pawnee with her mother) he was the voice of reason. He kept telling her that it wasn’t permanent. She would find the perfect job in Chicago eventually. They would come up with her perfect career plan together. When she came home from her part-time position at the front desk of a YMCA exhausted he rubbed her feet. When she came home defeated he pointed out the job meant she could volunteer for a local campaign all summer. Whenever her mother guilt tripped her and Leslie got down on herself, Ben remained her consistent champion.

 

“It’s sad,” Ben stops kissing her. His voice hitches as if the irony of the song choice just occurred to him,“The song is sad. How did I let you talk me into this song? It’s about a broken heart."

 

Leslie picks up the remote and mutes the television. She turns in Ben’s arms and hitches a leg over his hip. She kisses him, dragging it out, and curls her hands around his shoulders, “Because it is epic. Like us."

 

“Epic?” he tips an eyebrow.

 

“The best love stories are sad,” she shrugs, “it’s what make them epic."

 

He pulls back and frowns and Leslie kisses those adorable, boyish lips. But he shakes his head, “No, you don’t get to get out of this one. You think the best love stories are sad?"

 

“Of course. Romeo and Juliet. Marc Antony and Cleopatra. Bill and Hilary."

 

“What’s sad about Bill and Hilary?"

 

“Hello? Monica?"

 

“So you don’t have to die for your story to be sad?"

 

“No, it just need to include obstacles,” Leslie smiles, “True love, epic love, always finds a way no matter the obstacle."

 

Ben’s mouth quirks, “And we’re epic love?"

 

“No doubt about it,” she whispers before Ben dips his head and catches her lips with his and Leslie forgets about love stories and obstacles.

 

It is the first December of the rest of her life. Tomorrow they will put up the tree and Christmas will begin. A season all about belief and love. And this year, Leslie has never believed in anything more than her love for this man and his love for her. Everything about it felt epic

 

**

**December, 1997**

 

“Ben, we can’t afford this,” Leslie stammers on Christmas Eve. Nestled in a black velvet box is a ring. A beautiful diamond ring. It sparkles in the white light of the tree.

 

He scoots closer to her and takes the box from her. They sit in front of the tree because Leslie insists that is the only place to open Christmas presents. He takes the ring out and slips it onto her finger. It rests against the simple silver band they bought at Wal-Mart the eve before their city hall wedding seven months ago.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” he says, “this is long over due."

 

“I don’t need a diamond."

 

He plays with her hands, tugging them into his lap, “Remember what you said about epic love? That there needs to be obstacles for it to be real?"

 

“Yeah?"

 

“Well, I heard our abnormal wedding song the other day and it got me thinking what if someday you might feel that way? What if something happens and I hurt you?"

 

“Ben, it’s Christmas and this feels very un-Christmasy…"

 

But he scoots even closer so their knees are touching and his hands hold tight onto hers, “I actually think it is very Christmasy. If Christmas is about all the things that matter most then I can’t think of a better time to say it."

 

“Say what?"

 

“You. You matter more than anything to me. I love you for how you help me believe in things.  But more than what you do for me, I love  _you._ I love who you are and that someone like you exists,”  he pauses, skips a thumb over the ring on her finger, “And there probably will be a day where I hurt you -,"

 

“And me you.”

 

He swallows, “There is no way I won’t at some point disappoint even though I hope I am wrong, but when we fight or disagree I want you to have something that is meant to last forever,” he touches the diamond, “to know that no matter whatever obstacle is right in front of us I will always love who you are. I will always be proud to know you, to love you, and be loved by you. Forever."

 

Leslie doesn’t say anything for a long time. How can she?

 

Finally she tugs on Ben’s hand until they lie together atop of wrapping paper and pine needles. Her homemade ornaments hang above them and somewhere in the background a Christmas CD plays. She curls into Ben’s side, fisting his sweater so she can see the diamond.

 

“You’re right, forever is very Christmas-y."

 

***

**May, 2010**

 

The night she kisses Ben in the bathroom Leslie puts on her engagement ring. Her heart pounds all the way home and she paces the floor for an hour until she figures out why her fingertips itch and her feet keep leading toward the door.  _She wants him._

 

She wants him badly. It is a chemistry thing, she tells herself. Just chemistry. She can’t drunk dial her ex-husband. Hell, she isn’t even drunk. She is heady and wound tight and all she wants is a release. It is purely physical.  _Right?_

 

She doesn’t call him. Instead, she puts on her engagement ring. The diamond is dusty and it feels weird, the cool metal on her left ring finger.

  
When they divorced she packed away their life together and toted it home in her car. The boxes lived in her mother’s attic and then in her own attic, but never the ring. The ring went back into the little black box it came in and was safely tucked into her jewelry box. It always remained tucked away, but close at hand. For months she planned on sending it back to him. It must have cost a fortune and she was sure he took out a loan for it. A loan he probably spent years paying off.  But she never sent it back because it was hers. It meant forever and for years she would take it out on their anniversary, polish it, and remember what he said.

 

_“No matter the obstacle, I will always love who you are."_

 

She isn’t proud, but for years every time she came up against something she took the ring out and remembered what he said about forever. When she felt like the tides where rising up around her she took solace in the idea that  _he_ loved who she was or at least he promised to. Despite their fighting and all the things she’d done to him and him to her, Leslie never questioned what Ben said that Christmas. Years and years later she believed him and when she needed it, it helped her believe in herself.

 

But the night she kisses Ben in the bathroom she takes the engagement ring out and wishes she could change its meaning. She wants it to be just a ring, a shiny reminder of her youth, of a woman who didn’t exist anymore, a woman who fell in love without a pros and cons list. She shuts her eyes tight and wraps her hands around the ring as if she can press the memories out of it. She pictures them leaking away like condensation on the rim of a glass.

 

It doesn’t work. When she opens her fist the ring lies in her palm, still dusty, but still beautiful. It is a talisman of something beautiful Leslie once had, something part of her wishes she could have back.

***

**September, 2010**

 

After their kiss, the government is shut down. Ben allocates enough money to put on the children’s concert. She gets notice in a memo sent around the building and understands what it is. It is a peace offering, a token of respect. He’ll do his job and she would be able to do hers except the government is broke. He is working on it.

 

They don’t see each other. Ron offers her his position on the EBTF committee, but she declines. It is one of the hardest things she has ever had to do, but she can’t spend the summer in a room with him debating which parts of Pawnee to gut with a machete. It would hurt on all fronts.

 

So she sends Ron her ideas and reads the reports he brings her. She knows wherever the numbers are Ben is responsible. He wrote those sections and reading them is like reading his thoughts. He is all over the budget process and her fingers trail along the pages as if she can safely touch him this way. But even that - reports on government waste and restructuring options - even that is not safe. She thinks of him too often, wonders if he is thinking about her, and shoves the reports in her briefcase.

 

Pawnee isn’t large, but somehow they manage to never run into each other. It's partially because Leslie gets Ann to spy. She sends Ann to city hall where she chats up Chris, who happily lists every wonderful place he and his partner frequent in Pawnee. Ann reports back and Leslie sections off Pawnee into safe zones.

 

One time she does see him sitting at a bus stop. She is driving down Main and there he is sitting on a bench balancing a cup of soup on his knees. She slows down because the picture is so sad and lonely and she almost stops, but she thinks better of it.

 

Leslie almost forgets Ben is in Pawnee. Except for the being out of work thing and the fact that she is pretty sure she wants to sleep with him thing. Besides all those factors, Leslie has a fairly good summer. It is what she tells Ann, who asks weekly if Leslie is alright. She is alright. She doesn’t hide in anymore bathrooms or confuse people by crying for no reason. She holds ad hoc rec classes in her backyard and has a yard sale, which is successful except for the part where she buys everything back. She can’t siphon her life off like that. She just can’t.

 

“You know,” Ann says as they trudge from house to house buying back Leslie’s waffle makers, winter coats, and her tuba, “You know you’re holding pretty tightly onto the past. Don’t you think it would be good to let some of this stuff go?"

 

“No,” Leslie says stubbornly, “I just can’t do it. Not yet."

  
***

**September, 2010**

 

The day Leslie finds out the government is back is a strange day of contradictions. She is thrilled to be back at work, but when she goes to order manure her request is denied. Coming back to city hall floods her with relief, but also anxiety. Ben is somewhere in the building and she hates wondering if he’ll show up around every corner. It keeps her gripping her desk, holding on like an anchor.

 

But then sometime after lunch she looks through the windows of her office and sees the entire Parks department. They are listless and bored. Tom is online shopping, April is writing fake product reviews, and Donna is doing her nails. Ron is whittling. Only Jerry looks happily occupied folding blank computer paper and stuffing it into envelopes, something April told him needed to be done.

 

Something clicks in Leslie. She gets mad and maybe also tired. She is done being afraid of Ben Wyatt and their history. She is done hiding, of letting her emotions get the best of her. She is done not doing her job properly because he happens to be in the building. Ann is right. Leslie has to stop holding on so tightly to the past. She needs to unclench her hands from all that history. She is not that girl anymore and never will be again.

 

She makes two decisions.

 

First, she goes home and finds her engagement ring. There is a jewelry shop between her house and City Hall. Without thinking too hard, she goes inside and sells the ring to a sweet man who asks her three times if she is sure she wants to part with it. She takes the cash - more than what she ever expected to get for it - and slips it into an envelope. She tucks it into the back of her desk. Someday she will need a rainy day fund and the ring will finally be put to good use. She vows to forget about the whole thing. To treat it as inconsequential as she wished it felt

 

Then she pulls down the Harvest Festival banner. The idea has been simmering all day and she is going to act on it, dammit. She rallies the Parks department and together they present her idea to Chris and Ben, complete with pumpkins and a theme song. At the end Chris is crying and Ben just looks at her with a resigned smile.

 

“So what do you say?”

 

He tips an eyebrow and there is a pause and a smile, “Alright."

 

And while her co-workers cheer and Chris cries, Leslie locks eyes with Ben. She feels triumphant and for once she doesn’t care what he thinks of her. She isn’t wondering what he is feeling because her own feelings of pride and excitement at what she is going to do are enough. They swell in her chest and she begins to think, maybe, finally, since he showed up, that she is starting to move on. To believe in something other than the past.

  
***

**September, 2011**

 

“Ann, you need to come over so I can recreate the presentation,” Leslie practically hums that night into the phone. “I can’t tell you how amazing this Harvest Festival is going to be. I’ve already come up with a list of sponsors and rides and a themed candy avenue…"

 

“Leslie, we need to talk about something."

 

“Sure. Seriously, just come over."

 

“It’s about Ben."

 

“That’s the other thing, Ann. I did it today. I moved on. I was just sitting at my desk and I realized that I’ve let this history we had stop me from being me. From living  _my_ life and doing  _my_ job in  _my_ town. And it was this awesome lady moment because I realized that -,"

 

“Leslie, I ran into Chris today. He told me the city’s asked him to fill the empty City Manager position. He said Ben is staying too as his assistant city manager. They’re staying in Pawnee."

 

“What?"

 

“And he asked me out. On a double date. With Ben and his girlfriend.”


	5. Chapter 5

**September,  2011**

Really, Leslie tells herself, really she has no right to be mad about the girlfriend.

 

She has no claim on Ben Wyatt. Thirteen years ago, she walked out a marriage and then three months ago they kissed in a women’s bathroom. It had been a spectacular kiss. She thought of it sometimes at night in those moments just before sleep. But then she had made it clear to him that all she wanted was professionalism and he gave it to her. So, what right did she have to feel betrayed by the girlfriend business?

 

 

 

She didn’t. Not logically, at least. She tells Ann that. She tells herself that.

 

 

 

But Pawnee? He is staying in Pawnee?  _Her_ town? The town she grew up in and returned to with a broken heart? The place he once said he couldn’t ever see himself belonging? That town was where he decided to put down roots?  _That_  she could be furious about, fume about, and construct elaborate arguments against him in her head.

 

 

 

She wants to do all of those things, but she can’t. She has a presentation to small business owners about the Harvest Festival on Monday.  _They_  have a presentation. Leslie spends the weekend bent over binders, shooting emails back and forth with Ben, and sipping tea.

 

 

 

In fact she drinks a lot of tea because her head is raging. She tells herself it is the stress. It is taking a toll on her body. Once she gets through this presentation then she’ll deal with Ben Wyatt. In the meantime, she just needs to focus on work. It's the most important thing...

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**January, 1998**

 

 

 

“But I’m the kind of person for whom work is everything,” Leslie collapses on the couch. Ben is in the kitchen which means he is in the same room because their apartment is  _that_ small, “I am like a flickering light bulb,” her eyes rest on a lamp at the end of the couch, “Unable to work with the light bulb I want to work with."

 

 

 

Ben sets two frozen dinners down on the coffee table, “That metaphor doesn’t make any sense."

 

 

 

Leslie sits up, “This job is stealing my soul!"

 

 

 

“Dramatic much?"

 

 

 

“You get to go to an office and do work you like. Your work has a purpose other than answering phones,” She looks at the frozen meals in their cardboard cartons, “I thought you were going to make dinner?"

 

 

 

Ben points at the overcooked pasta, “This is dinner."

 

 

 

Leslie frowns, “It's sad like my life.” She collapses back onto the couch. Ben picks her feet up and puts them in his lap. She covers her face with both hands and moans.

 

 

 

“Leslie, it’s just a part-time job."

 

 

 

“A part-time job of sadness,” she mumbles, “and I have no plan. I’m almost eight months out of college and I have no plan. I’m supposed to be…"

 

 

 

“Be where Leslie?” Ben tugs her hands off her face and pulls her so she is sitting up.

 

 

 

“Pawnee,” she whispers and bites her lip. It feels awful to say because Pawnee is a sore spot for them. It is the place she left to be with him and a town he has never quite understood.

 

 

 

“And that is better than Chicago?"

 

 

 

Well yes, but she can’t say that to him. She shrugs pathetically, “At least there I would know who I am. There I have contacts. I could start somewhere in Pawnee. Here I am just a faceless nobody.” Her voice hiccups and even though Ben is right - it is just a part-time job - it feels like so much more than that. It's about who she is and her purpose and everything she wants to accomplish with her life, the difference she wants to make. All of it feels out-of-reach.

 

 

 

“You have me,” Ben tugs her into his lap and she lets him. He says it again when he kisses her, holds her while she cries, and she wishes it made her feel better. But it doesn’t. It makes her feel worse.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

There is the flu and a speech and something about a hospital, but Leslie can’t remember much about any of it. The last few days are hazy. She does remember Ben. He pressed a hand to her forehead and hauled her to the hospital to see Ann. She remembers his hands being everywhere, the small of her back and in the crook of her elbow, holding her up and helping her along. They are warm and wide. She doesn’t know why she remembers his hands and nothing else.

 

 

 

That’s not true. She remembers something else. She is back at the hospital and drowsy from the medication. She sleeps languidly in her bed and listens to the sounds echoing up and down the hall outside her room.

 

 

 

“I just wanted to tell her she got us almost double the number of small business we need,” Ben says.

 

 

 

Leslie swallows and tries to lift her head, but everything still hurts. He is far away - actually just in the doorway - and after she blinks she realizes Ann is blocking his way into her room.

 

 

 

“Fine. Message delivered. I’ll tell her when she wakes up."

 

 

 

Leslie doesn’t really have her eyes open anymore because everything is so bright, but she does listen. She hears him sigh and she wonders why he is frustrated.

 

 

 

“I brought her chicken noodle soup and waffles. She’ll eat the waffles and ignore the soup, but I brought it cause its an old family recipe."

 

 

 

“I’ll see that she gets it, but you need to leave."

 

 

 

“Why are you being like this?"

 

 

 

Leslie wishes she could open her eyes. She thinks she hears Ann’s shoes squeak on the floor. Imagines her pushing a finger into the bright plaid shirt Ben wore. “Because you’re an ass and I don’t want you around my best friend."

 

 

 

“Excuse me?"

 

 

 

“I know about the job offer and the girlfriend. Leslie knows. You’re a selfish ass and I don’t want you around her."

 

 

 

“You don’t know me."

 

 

 

“I know enough."

 

 

 

Ben’s voice rises, “What we have…it's complicated. It always has been between Leslie and me."

 

 

 

“There is no Leslie and you."

 

 

 

“We have a history. We used to be family."

 

 

 

“And I’m her family now and I’m telling you to get the hell out of here."

 

 

 

If there is more, Leslie doesn’t hear it. Everything hurts and she just wants to sleep.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**February, 1998**

 

 

 

“I don’t want to go,” Leslie combs her fingers through her hair. It is wet from her shower and she squeezes the last bit of water from the ends. Ben is focused on getting the knot in his tie right. “It’s a bunch of boring accountants."

 

 

 

“I don’t get how you don’t think ‘See you cal-cu-lator’ isn’t funny."

 

 

 

“That’s why I don’t want to go. How unromantic is a company party for an accounting firm? On Valentine’s Day?"

 

 

 

Ben turns away from the mirror and looks at her, “I know this isn’t what you’d want to do."

 

 

 

“I think a Valentine’s Day scavenger hunt is brilliant. I’m proud of that idea."

 

 

 

“And that is why I love you,” he tugs on the ties of her purple fuzzy bathrobe and pulls her to him, “But I need to go to this party. I need to network and I need my beautiful, outgoing wife with me."

 

 

 

Leslie presses her eyes shut. She gets it. It's part of any career, the obligatory company events. People would ask questions if she stayed home. It was one party, one boring night, in all the months they’d been married. She could give one night, but then why did it feel like so much more than that?

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**March, 1998**

 

 

 

“You don’t like it?” Leslie straightens.

 

 

 

Ben sighs at the frozen dinners she set down on their coffee table. Their apartment isn’t big enough for a real table. He lifts the cardboard trays up and starts to clear the stacks of paper beneath it. “You’re going to get grease on your files,” he mutters.

 

 

 

“Don’t move them! I’ve got them organized."

 

 

 

“What is all of this anyway?” Ben flips through the nearest file folder.

 

 

 

Leslie grabs it from him, “Just a proposal."

 

 

 

“Leslie, this is a proposal for a girl’s camp in Pawnee. Camp Athena?"

 

 

 

“Yeah, it's something I’ve been doing in my spare time. Mom told me about some extra money her education budget has. I'm putting something together."

 

 

 

He sets it down, “But it's in Pawnee. You live in Chicago."

 

 

 

“I thought I could go home for a few weeks,” she tries brightly, “ and run the camp. It’d be a great resume builder."

 

 

 

He offers a genuine smile, “It's a great idea. I’m not against it, but I just wish you’d try something here, in Chicago, where you live."

 

 

 

Leslie wrings her hands. “Chicago isn’t Pawnee. I know the girls who would come to this camp. I taught their rec classes. Babysat for them. It’s personal for me in Pawnee."

 

 

 

Ben doesn’t say anything. He turns his fork over in the overcooked pasta, twirls the noodles. Leslie clears her throat. “You don’t like dinner?"

 

 

 

“It’s a frozen meal. Am I supposed to like it?"

 

 

 

She flinches, “Excuse me for not being a master chef."

 

 

 

“This has got to be the tenth frozen meal we’ve had in a row."

 

 

 

“And?"

 

 

 

“You work part-time. How hard is to make something? Hell, takeout would be better than this."

 

 

 

She stands, “Since when did the 1950’s climb up your ass?"

 

 

 

Ben shakes his head, “This isn’t about me being a mysinogist. You sound like your mother when you talk like that."

 

 

 

“If the glove fits!"

 

 

 

“She hates me for making you move to Chicago and daring to suggest that you take my last name."

 

 

 

“Don’t pretend for one second you would have ever moved to Pawnee -,"

 

 

 

“That’s cause I have a job, a real job that pays the real bills, and it's here in Chicago!” Ben screeches.

 

 

 

“And you would have never taken my last name. None of those thoughts never crossed your privileged white male brain.”

 

 

 

“They do now cause you and your mother won’t stop bringing it up!"

 

 

 

They are both breathing heavy, standing on opposite ends of the couch. Leslie looks at the overcooked frozen dinners sitting on top of her carefully ordered files.

 

 

 

“I haven’t had time to cook because I’ve been working on this proposal,” she says.

 

 

 

Ben licks his lips, “Leslie, I’m not a mysinogist, but I am pragmatic. We both work and we both have to eat and the laundry has to get done. I am happy to do my fair share. I’m happy to do your share when you’re busy. I’m happy to eat frozen meals for a month if we have to, but a proposal for a civics project in another state?"

 

 

 

“What about it?” She crosses her arms.

 

 

 

“It screams that you aren’t here, with me, trying to build our life together. It tells me that you’d rather be back home. That home will always be in Pawnee."

 

 

 

She doesn’t deny it, but when he says the words aloud it does make her want to cry because she doesn’t want to hurt him.

 

 

 

“I’ll try,” she whispers, “I’ll try to make this place home."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

“Leslie, what is Ben Wyatt doing at City Hall?"

 

 

 

Marlene Griggs-Knope marches in Leslie’s office. Tom’s head snaps in her direction, but he is so intimated by her mother that he slinks out of the office and closes the door.

 

 

 

Marlene lowers her voice, “Ben Wyatt. Is. Here. In. Pawnee."

 

 

 

“I know."

 

 

 

“And the word is he’s been around all summer. He’s one of the state auditors?"

 

 

 

“He is."

 

 

 

“You’ve known he was here the whole time?"

 

 

 

Leslie bites her lip and nods. There is something about parents. No matter how old you get, you’re always partially a child in their presence, “Yes. He’s been working on the Parks budget and Harvest Festival."

 

 

 

Marlene sinks into the chair that Leslie considers to be Ann’s chair. It occurs to her that she could have gone to Marlene about Ben when he first showed up, but instead she turned to Ann. Her mother had never liked Ben or the marriage. For years, she referred to that year as Leslie’s "housewife rebellion" as if the whole thing had been some sort of act. As if it could be dismissed so easily and that her heart hadn’t really been involved.

 

 

 

Marlene touches her throat, “Honey, are you okay?"

 

 

 

“I’m handling it. It was all a long time ago,” Leslie says.

 

 

 

Her mother takes Leslie at her word. She probably shouldn’t because it's a long way from the truth, but Leslie is too glad to be taken at face value, to not be questioned by her mother, that all she can do is squeeze her hand.

 

 

 

“I am going to be fine, Mom."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

“Um, Leslie?” Ben hovers in her doorway.

 

 

 

“Yeah?” She is rushing. She has a Goddesses meeting in fifteen minutes at the rec center and she is running late. “Is there something wrong with the sponsorship agreements I wrote up?"

 

 

 

“No,” Ben says. “Of course not. They’re thorough and exact. Like usual."

 

 

 

“Great!"

 

 

 

When he doesn’t say anything, Leslie stops moving. They haven’t talked since she got the flu. She remembers Ann’s fight with Ben. Her beautiful bullfrog of a best friend defended her and while Leslie appreciates it, she doesn’t know if it did any good. No one could deal with this except for her and Ben.

 

 

 

“Ben? What do you need?” She isn’t trying to be coy. She really is late.

 

 

 

“I’mstayinginPawnwee,” he mumbles. He shoves his fists into his pockets.

 

 

 

“I know,” she rounds the desk, “Ann told me. Chris told her when he asked her out on a double date with your girlfriend. Excuse me,” she tries to move past him, “I need to go."

 

 

 

“How long have you known?"

 

 

 

“Since last week."

 

 

 

“And you never came to talk to me?"

 

 

 

She tilts her head. “Ben, we don’t talk. We’re barely friends. No one knows about us except for my mother and Ann,” she shifts her bag on her arm, “Seriously, you don’t owe me an explanation."

 

 

 

He rubs his hand on the back of his neck, “I didn’t expect you to be so calm about it."

 

 

 

“Oh,” she moves past him and their shoulders brush. “I’m the opposite of calm.”

 

 

 

“Leslie,” he calls after her. She is already half-way out of the Parks department when she turns around to look at him.  
  
“I don’t want to hurt you,” he gives a pathetic shrug. “It’s a good opportunity and I like Pawnee."

 

 

 

Leslie thinks of his girlfriend, the one he didn’t correct her on, and thins her lips, “Ben all you’ve done since you got here was tell me you don’t want to hurt me. I can’t keep you from staying even if it makes my life awkward and my job harder, but please stop saying you don’t mean to hurt me.”

 

 

 

“Leslie, I don’t -,"

 

 

 

She takes two steps toward him, “If you didn’t want to hurt me you wouldn’t have come here. You wouldn’t be staying. So stop apologizing and pretending that my feelings merit any consideration from you."

 

 

 

He looks like she is flogging him alive. He stares at the floor and his adam’s apple protrudes from his throat like something is caught in there. Something impossible to swallow, “What do you want from me?” he says.

 

 

 

“You owe me the respect of at least being honest. You get to choose where you live without my consideration just like I get to not give a flying fuck what those choices turn out to be.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**April, 1999**

 

 

 

Leslie tries. She really does. She gets involved with the community center in their neighborhood and gets to know the parks in Chicago. She loves the parks. They give her space and time to roam. She isn’t stuck in their tiny apartment. She makes a friend or two, goes out for drinks, and begins to contemplate how she might launch her career toward the White House from Chicago.

 

 

 

Her Camp Athena program gets approval and Leslie begins to try to get ahold of the Parks department director, a Ron Swanson, but he will never return her phone calls. It doesn’t matter. She marks off the three weeks in June she’ll be in Pawnee with a bright, happy pen and draws stars around the days.

 

 

 

“You’ll be gone during our anniversary,” Ben says when he sees the calendar.

 

 

 

“Oh,” Leslie cringes. In her excitement the date had slipped her mind. “We can celebrate it when I get back."

 

 

 

“Sure. Fine."

 

 

 

Ben begins a new project at work and it keeps him at work long hours. He goes in on the weekends and Leslie occupies herself with political biographies and exploring Chicago’s parks. She drops dinner off at his office and meets the team of accountants he is heading up. They tell her how funny and great Ben is. One woman tells Leslie she is jealous of how ambitious Ben is at such a young age.

 

 

 

“You’re lucky you found one of the good ones.” She leans in and whispers it conspiratorially, “Cause by the time you’re my age all is left are boys who don’t want to grow up."

 

 

 

What was the woman, like 30? Leslie frowns, “Thanks?"

 

 

 

Leslie tries and she is so focused on trying that she doesn’t notice that it has been a month since she and Ben had sex. It has been even longer since they went on a date or ate a meal that didn’t include the television filling the silence between them. They used to eat during the news, but before their conversation drifted over the broadcast as they filled in the details of their day. Somewhere along the way that stopped.

 

 

 

Leslie doesn’t notice any of this because she is trying to hard to fix something that can’t be fixed.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

“So the girlfriend is Shauna Malwae-Tweep,” Ann sinks down onto Leslie’s couch.

 

 

 

“Ann, I really don’t want to know,” Leslie punches the buttons on her remote. She just wants the DVD to start. Watching Joe Biden make policy speeches always makes her feel better.

 

 

 

“Aren’t you mad?"

 

 

 

The DVD plays and Leslie sighs back into the couch. She turns her face against the back cushions and looks at Ann. “The romantic part of our relationship is over."

 

 

 

Ann tucks her feet underneath her and looks at the television screen, “I don’t get the Joe Biden thing."

 

 

 

Absently Leslie rubs her fingers along the hem of her favorite Indiana U t-shirt. The material is threadbare, but it's the perfect shirt and today that is what she needs. She needs things that are comfortable and safe. After her Goddesses meeting, she called Ann on the way home, and her best friend met her with cartons of Chinese. She let Leslie pick the movie and didn’t even protest when Leslie pulled out her Joe Biden collection. “He’s a tall, sexy man driven to civic service by his character. What more could you want?” she says.

 

 

 

“Can I ask a question?” Ann’s brow creases, “What happened?"

 

 

 

“I told you what I said to him."

 

 

 

“No, I mean how did it end? You’ve told me all the good stuff and you’ve told me about the fights, but it sounded like you were trying to make it work."

 

 

 

Leslie shrugs, “I think it always comes down to character."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**May, 1998**

 

 

 

Leslie’s cell phone rings and she mutes the television. It's Ben and she smiles. She missed him today in a way she hadn’t in months. She hopes he can take the weekend off. Maybe they could get out of the city. Reconnect.

 

 

 

“I mean, I don’t know. I didn’t grow up dreaming of being an accountant."

 

 

 

It is Ben’s voice, but it isn’t close. Leslie presses the phone to her ear.

 

 

 

“What is your dream?” The second voice belongs to a woman. It's that woman on his team, the older one. Her voice is low and Leslie can hear the something in the background. Low jazz music.

 

 

 

“I don’t know. Something to do with politics I think,” Ben laughs and Leslie hears him swallow. He calls out for the bartender to pour him another one.

 

 

 

“Then why stay at the company?” The woman’s voice is closer. Leslie can see it: Ben’s phone is in his back pocket and he butt dialed her on accident. He is at a bar when he is supposed to be in the office finishing work so he could come home to her, his wife. Instead, he went out with a co-worker, a woman who is leaning closer into his side.

 

 

 

“Cause I have a wife and she’s got dreams,  _plans_ ,” Ben says the last word hard like it is sour on his tongue. He sighs, “Cause one of us has to be pragmatic. Leslie’s going to run for office someday. She’s going to spend her whole life in public service. One of us needs to be able to pay the mortgage.”

 

 

 

“That sounds so sad."

 

 

 

“I don’t know if it's sad as much as true."

 

 

 

“Why do you have to be the one to give everything up? Aren’t your dreams just as important?"

 

 

 

If Ben says anything, Leslie doesn’t hear it. She’s dropped the phone, left it between two couch cushions, and gone to find her suitcase. She doesn’t call Ben back or leave a note. When he gets home an hour later, she is gone.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

Ann’s jaw drops, “So did he have an affair?"

 

 

 

Leslie lifts a shoulder, “He swore he didn’t. Said it was two drinks after a good day at work and that the rest of their team was at a table. He said it had never happened before."

 

 

 

“But you didn’t believe him?"

 

 

 

“It doesn’t matter. He saw me as this selfish child he was stuck with. He regretted marrying me cause I wasn’t some model wife. I came with my own dreams and plans. I was too complicated for him."

 

 

 

Ann hesitates, “Are you sure? I mean did he say that to you?"

 

 

 

Leslie doesn’t want to do this. She doesn’t want to go three rounds with Ann about what happened. It happened. There is no going back. Leslie had to face that just like she had to face the fact that Ben is in Pawnee to stay.

 

 

 

“Please,” she says to her best friend, “please, can we just watch Joe?"

 

 

 

Ann nods and hands her a plate of take out. It isn’t breakfast food, but her dinner is on her purple plate, the one with the wide rim. She tries to push  the fact that he knows her so well from her mind. Instead, she focuses on Joe, a man of true character.

 

 

 

Two hours later, Ann helps Leslie clean up and finds her coat. Leslie walks her friend to the door and Ann is half-way down the steps before she stops and turns around, “Shauna isn’t really his girlfriend,” she says, “I mean they’ve been on a couple dates. Chris said he thinks something is holding Ben back. She’s his type, tall and brunette, but he just doesn’t seem that into it."

 

 

 

Leslie nods, “I don’t care Ann. Seriously. I’m over it."

 

 

 

Her friend shrugs, “I just thought you should have all the information."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**June, 1998**

 

 

 

“Leslie, you need to call me back. You can’t just leave like this. If you don’t call me back I’m going to come to Pawnee. I don’t care if you’re in the middle of Camp Athena. This is our marriage. I mean I come home from work to find your half of the closet empty. I go crazy all night cause I don’t know where you are. Finally your mother answers my phone call and she accuses me of having an affair. What the hell is going on? You can’t do this. We’re in love for god’s sake."

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

**September, 2011**

 

 

 

After Ann leaves, Leslie falls asleep on the couch. She doesn’t bother to turn off the lights cause she just doesn’t care. Curled beneath the blanket she wishes she could fall asleep quickly, to hide in her dreams, but the thoughts whirl through her mind.

 

_Why had she just left?_

 

_Did she really believe Ben’s character to be so low?_

 

_Why was he staying in Pawnee?_

 

_Was a part of her still in love with him?_

 

 

Eventually weariness drags her into sleep, but a few hours later a knock wakes her. She shuffles to her door and flips on the porch light. She recognizes the outline through the glass.

 

 

 

“Whatdoyouwant?” she mumbles and yawns. She blinks and realizes Ben is staring at her with a heaviness she hasn’t seen in him since that night in the women’s bathroom, “What are you doing here?” she whispers.

 

 

 

“I don’t have a girlfriend, not really. It was just a few dates,” he shakes his head.

 

 

 

“Ok-ay.” Leslie hugs her stomach.

 

 

 

“And nothing  _ever_ happened with that woman back in Chicago,” he runs a hand through his hair, “I don’t even remember her name."

 

 

 

“She wanted you. She made sure I knew,” Leslie says.

 

 

 

“I - I - I don’t know what to say,” he stammers, “about why I said those things that night. Why I didn’t trust you enough to tell you my fears. I don’t know why I did that."

 

 

 

“Ben, why are you here?” Leslie swallows.

 

 

 

He stares at her with disbelief, as if even he can’t understand what he is about to say, “I’m here cause I’m still in love with you.”  
  



	6. Chapter 6

**October, 2011**  
  
“ _Okay_? He told you he loved you and you said OKAY?"

 

 

 

 

Leslie focuses on packing away her birdhouses.

 

 

 

“Leslie!"

 

 

Her head snaps up, “What do you want me to say, Ann?” Her best friend looks at her from the other side of the dining room table. Her shoulders sag and Leslie looks back down at the box in front of her. She says, “He just waited for me to say something else, but I didn’t know what to say."

 

 

 

“And then?"

 

 

 

Leslie lifts a shoulder, “And then he left."

 

 

 

“That was a month ago?” Ann sinks into a chair, “Leslie, why are you just now telling me?"

 

 

 

Leslie doesn’t say anything because she isn’t sure. Ben’s confession still leaves her stupefied.  It occurs to her that she had once called their love epic. She fists her left hand and remembers the ring he slipped on her finger that Christmas and the words that went with it,  _No matter the obstacle I will always love who you are_. She shakes her hand out, trying to slough off the ghost of that memory.

 

 

 

“Ben doesn’t know me,” she blurts out. “He thinks he's in love with me, but it has been years. He doesn’t know me."

 

 

 

Ann frowns, “And he hasn’t brought it up again?"

 

 

 

“Nope."

 

 

 

“But you guys have been working so well on the Harvest Festival."

 

 

 

“Our jobs are important to us."

 

 

 

Leslie can feel her best friend watching her. “You could let him get to know you," she says. "You could be his friend."

 

 

 

“You said he's an ass."

 

 

 

“He is an ass, but I also think that he affects you. It isn’t like you to hide from things, but you took a month to tell me about this." Ann looks sad.

 

 

 

“I don’t know how to let it go."

 

 

 

“Your feelings for him?"

 

 

 

“No,” she exhales trying to control her shaking emotions, “My feelings  _about_ him. I don’t know how to let go of how he affects me,” she hugs her stomach. “I am so angry at him for staying in Pawnee and then sometimes when he sends me numbers about the Harvest Festival I can’t help but think about how smart he is. And he made a joke the other day in a budget meeting and I laughed! I laughed Ann! No one else laughed, but I did."

 

 

 

“Leslie…"

 

 

 

“And sometimes I want to kiss his stupid face and other times I want to punch it. I want to never see him again and there is a part of me that wants to corner him in a room and ask him what the hell happened. To really talk to him."

 

 

 

“Leslie…"

 

 

 

“I want to stop caring. I want him to just be a guy from my past like Dave or Justin or Mark. I’ve moved on from them,” Leslie fists her hands, “But him… _ugh_ , he is so infuriating. I'm so disappointed in myself for not being able to stop caring.”

 

 

 

“Leslie!” Ann grabs her hand from across the table and holds tight, “That…that right there - your disappointment with yourself is not alright. I’m not advocating you date the guy. I’m saying you need to let go and the only person who can help you do that is probably Ben Wyatt."

 

 

 

**

 

 

 

Leslie’s favorite thing about fall is how everything changes. Nights grow shorter and the air crisp. Leaves fall and you can spend a whole day jumping into them like a child, gleefully flying through the air. After a long summer, children trudge back to school and eventually you add another blanket to the end of your bed. You prepare for winter. You harvest vegetables. Even the moon glows differently in the fall, Leslie decides, all orange light as if it were on fire.

 

 

 

Leslie loves fall this year especially because she is so happy the summer is over. The shutdown has ended and maybe things will change. Maybe they will go back to normal. To celebrate she decides to host a Parks department dinner party. It’ll be a thank you for all their hard work on the Harvest Festival, she tells Ann.

 

 

 

You know there are other people who have worked on the festival, Ann says.

 

 

 

Really, Leslie should have seen Ann’s plan coming from a mile away. She shouldn’t have been surprised when Chris Traeger shows up with Ben in tow. It was after all Ann who kept pressuring her to just  _talk_ to Ben. What Ann didn’t realize was Leslie and Ben couldn’t just talk. It was always something more than that.

 

 

 

Chris bounds up the steps with an unbridled enthusiasm that throws Leslie off. Ben lingers a few steps behind with some sort of vegetable plate in his hands.

 

 

 

“Leslie Knope, thank you for your lovely invitation to your home this evening!” Chris grips her hand in both of his. But Leslie only has eyes for Ben, whose chin is tucked. He shuffles his feet and annoyance flares in her chest. He doesn’t get to show up here all unsure and hesitant. Chris has already moved past her into the house where Ann is passing around appetizers.

 

 

 

“What are you doing here?” Leslie stands between Ben and the doorway.

 

 

 

“Chris told me Ann said I should come,” he stammers. “I thought the invitation was from you."

 

 

 

“Why would I invite you to my house?"

 

 

 

“Leslie, I can go."

 

 

 

“Ben,” Ann appears in the door, “Why would you go? This whole evening is about the Harvest Festival. I’m so glad you could come!"

 

 

 

Ben looks at Leslie as Ann takes his arm, but Leslie doesn’t have words. She lets Ann drag him into the house. She stays on the front porch with her hands clasped together. Fall is about change, she reminds herself. Ann is right. It's time to begin to get over Ben Wyatt.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Here is the truth: Leslie has a good time at dinner.  
  
  
  
At dinner, Ben sits out of her purview. Without knowing it her beautiful friends fill the conversation with stories and fond teasing. It isn’t until Leslie gets up to bring in the dessert that she catches Ben’s face. He is smiling at something Tom is saying. He isn’t looking at her, but down the length of the table toward her friends. She stands there and he just looks really happy. It does a funny thing to her.

 

 

 

It reminds her that while she spent the last thirteen years in Pawnee, he spent them on the road. He didn’t have a hometown; Partridge was a blackened hole on the map. He had a job and endless hotel rooms and a bunch of Facebook friends. For some reason this fact pricks the corners of her eyes.

 

 

 

He must feel gaze then because his eyes lift to meet hers and Leslie turns away. She doesn’t want to make eye contact with Ben Wyatt. But before she looks away she sees the corners of his mouth tuck and his steady questioning look.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Ben finds her later in the kitchen. She is rinsing dishes. In her living room Andy is reenacting his favorite action movies. She smiles at the sound of her friend’s laughter.

 

 

 

“Leslie?"

 

 

 

“Is that the last of the dishes?” she pastes on a smile and takes the plate from his hands.

 

 

 

“Yeah."

 

 

 

“Good,” she plunges the plate into the soapy water. “you should get back to the living room. Andy’’ll go for at least an hour."

 

 

 

“Leslie?"

 

 

 

“Seriously, can you say anything else?"

 

 

 

He is taken aback when she whips around at him. He looks at her with the same twittering nervousness as he did at the beginning of the evening.

 

 

 

“I’m not seeing Shauna,” he stuffs his hands in his pockets, “I’m not dating anyone.”

 

 

 

“Ben, I can’t do this."

 

 

 

“I know,” he stutters, “I just…I don’t know…"

 

 

 

She wipes her hands on a towel and bites her lip. Fall was the season of change, right?

 

 

 

“Come on,” she grabs his forearm. It startles him. It startles her. But she doesn’t stop to think.  
  
  
  
  
She tugs him out of the kitchen. She leads him up the back stairwell to her second floor. She can see the wide whites of Ben’s eyes in the low light, but she doesn’t stop until she pulls him into her bedroom and shuts the door. She leans her back against it and turns to him standing a few feet further in her room, picking over her piles of binders and books.

 

 

 

“Wewereneverfriends,” she says in a rushed breath.

 

 

 

Ben just blinks at her, “What?"

 

 

 

“We were never friends,” she slows down. Wipes her sweating palms on her legs, “We were lovers and husband and wife, but we were never just friends."

 

 

 

His face is all hurt and confusion and Leslie feels a little bit of the anger dissipating. In the softer, low light she can see how he’s aged. There are creases around his mouth and eyes. His face has lost the soft roundness of youth. It occurs to her that if Ben doesn’t know her anymore that it stands that she doesn’t know him either.

 

 

 

She closes her eyes and tries to explain, “When you say you love me all I want to say is you don’t know me."

 

 

 

“Leslie, I know you."

 

 

 

She thinks of what he said all those Christmases ago. He will always love her for who she is. She blinks back tears because that is a really beautiful idea, but it's like air. You can inhale it, but there are elements that need to be exhaled. She thinks of how  _she_ doesn’t even know who she is sometimes. It is a beautiful idea, but a half one. You can’t base love on feelings and ideas. Love is action. It is talking and laughing and sex. It is trusting and brushing the stray curl off her forehead.

 

 

 

“You know parts of me, but I left you,” she smiles sadly. “I left and you signed the divorce papers

 

 

 

If love is an action then so is not-loving, she is trying to say. They both took actions to stop loving one another. You can’t undo that.

 

 

 

He sinks down onto her mattress. She has the overwhelming desire to tuck herself between his knees. She wants him to loop his arms around her waist and she wants to brush the hair at the nape of his neck with her fingers. She doesn’t know why she wants too except that she misses the intimacy of such gestures. She wants them, but she wants other things too:  to put on the Harvest Festival and to reclaim a sense of balance in her life. Sometimes you don’t get everything you want.

 

 

 

She takes a half step toward him, “I’m saying that you can’t love me because we’re divorced."

 

 

 

“I don’t think that’s true.” He looks at her with a frank, open stare.

 

 

 

“You’re not hearing what I’m saying."

 

 

 

“Then say it better,” he snaps and Leslie cringes, “I’m sorry,” he says quickly. He runs both hands in his hair and drops his elbows to his knees. He buries is face in his palms and groans, “I don’t know what to do.”

 

 

 

Leslie lowers herself on the bed next to him. She keeps a good two feet between them, but she does it. She sits next to him and waits patiently like you might for a friend.

 

 

 

“I don’t want to go back on the road,” he whispers. “Pawnee is weird, but I finally get it. It is a pretty special place."

 

 

 

She can’t help but smile, “I told you so."

 

 

 

He turns his head and looks at her. He rolls his eyes and Leslie laughs a little. For some reason this causes him to look at her with a sadness that she doesn’t understand. He drops his head back into his hands.

 

 

 

“What you said a couple months ago about me not taking your feelings into consideration when I decided to stay in Pawnee. You were right. It was selfish."

 

 

 

“It was your right,” she says, pauses, and goes on, “Ben, we really messed up all those years ago.”

 

 

 

“I know."

 

 

 

“And it was both of us. It took me a really long time to admit that. This is probably the first time I’ve ever admitted it out loud. But it was both of us. I’m sorry that I wouldn’t see that sooner. That was selfish."

 

 

 

He sighs, “We were young. You did the best you could do. You always do."

 

 

 

Leslie doesn’t know why he is being so generous toward her, but she sits up a little straighter.

 

 

 

“Ben, I want you to stay in Pawnee,” she exhales, “I know you’ve already made your decision, but I want you to know I think it's a good idea. Pawnee could use you and I think this place will be good for you."

 

 

 

It is the best she can give right now. She isn’t ready to be friends, but she thinks she may be ready to be his co-worker. Maybe if she and Ben could build something together that wasn’t a marriage, something that wasn’t about them, she could begin to let him go. She could begin to change.


	7. Chapter 7

**October,  2011**

 

She starts by bringing him coffee.

 

After all these years she still knows how he takes it - half a teaspoon of creamer and one sugar. As a peace offering, she sets the coffee next to his padfolio before their next Harvest Festival meeting. When he sits down the cup startles him and he looks straight at Leslie. The fact that he doesn’t have to wonder who it was from gives her a thrill she knows she shouldn’t have.

 

In return, he faces the media for her. Or rather he faces the media for her Harvest Festival. For their Harvest Festival, she keeps telling herself. He does it because it is his job.

 

It is a complete and total disaster. He stumbles through half-finished sentences on  _Ira & the Douche_ and melts down on  _Today with Perd_.  Leslie wants to help him, but she can’t. She has to watch all of his insecurities unspool like thread; she can’t say his part for him. But afterwards, he replays the tape of his epic failure on Perd’s show for the whole Parks department and at the end he takes a little bow. Tom and April laugh and Leslie laughs too. She catches Ben laughing and it occurs to her that this might be the first time since their marriage where they have laughed together.

 

*******

 

**November, 2011**

 

The weather holds for the Harvest Festival; the day is perfect. It is sunny and crowded and Lil’Sebastian wows everyone. Leslie stands at the gate and welcomes the crowds of Pawnee citizens. She points out the Ferris Wheel and recommends everyone stays clear of Sue’s salad stand. She is so happy, so thrilled down to her marrow, that she almost forgets that 24-hours ago the whole festival almost didn’t happen.

 

There was the stupid curse and the generator broke and then the media and Lil’Sebastian got out.   All of it piled on, but the thing that stunned her was Ben.

 

“I cannot catch a break.” Her shoulders sagged right after the lights went out.

 

“Well I’m going to help you out. I’m just going to go. I’m jinxed or something.” He said, backing away from her.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Look, you were fine until I got involved so I think I should probably just go. I’m really sorry. I’m the curse I think. I’m just gonna get out of here.”

 

And then he was gone. After months of work, he was just gone, and Leslie was left to fix it by herself. It was sobering. All those little moments when she let herself think  _what if?_ suddenly felt foolish. Despite the coffees and shared smiles, despite the late nights working and the new ease they’d slowly developed - despite all of that here was the hard truth:  Ben was gone, slipped away, and it was a stark reminder that they weren’t partners. They hadn’t fallen back into old habits. They may have found a strange peace, but it was a half-one, something as fragile as filigreed glass.

 

Leslie is left to fix it on her own.

 

No, that’s not true. She is left to fix it with the help of her amazing friends. And that is how she wins the day. With the help of Ann and Ron and everyone else. She doesn’t have time to consider Ben Wyatt because she’s to busy trying to save her department, her career, and her festival.

 

So on the day of the Harvest Festival, Leslie stands at the gate and greets her success as it comes streaming toward her in the form of sugar-high children, teenagers running around in groups, in families, and the occasional couple out on a date. Like a Polaroid, she holds each in her head and she sees herself in the curve of their happiness. The Harvest Festival is her love letter to Pawnee. She is grateful to be able to say  _him and their past_  felt less important in the light of the Harvest Festival. The rest of her life eclipsed what had been and that is exactly how it should be.

 

And then he is there, shuffling toward her, squinting from the sun.

 

“Hey,” he waves and hesitates a few feet outside her personal space. “I’m sorry I left. I honestly felt like I was cursed or something. Ice Town and then this.”

 

“Ice Town was a disaster and it seems like it was probably your fault,” Leslie says, “From what I can tell you mismanaged the hell out of it.”

 

“Wow, why even say that?”

 

“But the point is this project, this is as much yours as it’s mine. It’s ours. And it’s going to be really great.” She takes a deep, shuddering breath and admits it, “And I’m glad you’re here.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

It is the truth. Even though she is grateful to return to her old equilibrium without Ben, the truth is she is glad he  _is_ here. Like a new page in a very old book standing there at the gate of the Harvest Festival with him brings out a new feeling in Leslie. It is something old and new at the very same time.

 

***

 

**November, 2011**

 

When April and Andy get married, Leslie manages to stay in the room just long enough to see the ceremony. Afterwards, she escapes outside, taking long, gasping breathes. Standing there as the justice of the peace pronounced April and Andy husband and wife was too much. She and Ben hadn’t been much older than April when they got married.

 

Were they really that young?

 

She looks at April and tries to remember what she was like at that age. Had she really been so hopeful? Had she really believed so easily in her own love story?

 

She had. She remembers the feelings as if they were yesterday. They rush forward and Leslie has to press a palm to her breastbone. She had been so naive. They both had been so naive. There hadn’t been a plan. There hadn’t been any consideration for what marriage really meant. All Leslie had known then was love. She had believed love would overcome any obstacle.

 

“Leslie?”

 

She closes her eyes and thanks the gods that it isn’t Ben. She takes a steadying breath and turns to Ron who offers her a glass of wine.

 

“You wouldn’t have been able to stop it, you know,” he says as he sits down on the bench next to her.

 

“I could have yelled something. Or tackled someone.”

 

“But you didn’t because deep down you know it wouldn’t have mattered. Those kids are going to do what they wanna do.”

 

“They may have just ruined their lives on an impulse decision,” she counters.

 

And because Ron doesn’t know about Ben he thinks she is talking about April and Andy. She is. She also sees herself in a white dress, heels clicking on the stone floor of the courthouse steps, tucked into the curve of Ben’s arm, his lips on her neck. She sees that younger Leslie and wonders if she ruined her life on an impulse decision. She really doesn’t really have an answer.

 

“Who’s to say what works,” Ron shrugs, “you find somebody you like and you roll the dice. That’s all anybody can do.”

 

Even though she knows he isn’t talking about her, Leslie feels like Ron is giving her a piece of personal advice. The way he talks about marriage and divorce is not irreverent, but there is a lightness to his words. They convey a perspective Leslie had not considered until now. A lot of how things turn out are outside of her control; her marriage and divorce both happened. There is no taking it back. It occurs to Leslie that it might be time to start forgiving herself.

 

***

 

**December, 2011**

 

There is no single moment that her friendship with Ben feels  _normal_. It’s more like a stuttering sentence spread out over the days and weeks; she gets used to him hanging around the Parks department and seeing his name pop up in her email box. One memorable night he joins them at the Snakehole, though Leslie guesses that is because Chris is still trying to get Ann Perkins to go out with him. After their disastrous fake-date, Ann quickly decided it would be too messy to date Chris Traeger.

 

“He’s your secret ex-husband’s partner and now he’s your boss. I’d have to keep secrets from him and the whole thing would be weird. Not going to do it.” She tells Leslie.

 

Leslie doesn’t argue because it is easier to let it be. It is easier to keep Ben tucked safely into work-friend category even if Leslie knows he is much more than that. All it would take was one thing to change and everything would be messy again.

 

That one thing happens. Ben moves in with Andy and April. It startles Leslie when she comes knocking on their back door with Jerry’s painting. She’s not sure why she took it exactly. Maybe it’s because she is tired of how many rules have come to dictate her life:  don’t think about the past, don’t resurrect that secret handshake you had with Ben, don’t explain to anyone why you know how the assistant city manager takes his coffee. Or maybe it’s because she just doesn’t like Marcia Langman and dammit the painting makes her feel confidant after a season of not feeling so confidant so why does she need a better reason than that?

 

So when Ben answers the door it feels like her carefully constructed sense of  _normal_ shatters at her feet.

 

“What are you doing here?”

 

“I moved into the spare room.” The way he says it sounds like he can’t quite believe it himself.

 

She struggles the painting inside and leans it up against the wall.

 

“It’s a painting of me as a centaur,” she explains, “In the nude. Just the chestal region. You don’t have to look at it if you don’t want.”

 

Ben stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Oh.”

 

“It’s very classy.” Internally, she cringes even though she hopes her face remains calm. There is a pressure in her chest from the way he looks at her right now. His chin is tucked and he looks uncertain, unnerved, and Leslie would give a hundred waffles to know what he is thinking. But then Chris calls and Leslie ducks out of the room.

 

When she returns Ben still has his hands in his pockets, but he wears a small smile.

 

“What?”

 

“Nothing,” he ducks his head.

 

Leslie feels the corners of her mouth tug up, “You can’t do that and then not tell me.”

 

Ben scratches an ear, “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”

 

“You looked at the painting!”

 

He threw his hands up, “You told me I could.”

 

“But that’s not it. That’s not why you’re smiling.”

 

“Leslie, I told you it isn’t appropriate. I’m your boss now.”

 

“And you also used to be married to me so fess up Wyatt.” She pokes a finger at him.

 

“Fine,” he sighs, “I’ve seen them and that painting does not do you justice.”

 

Her throat goes dry, “You mean the chestal region?”

 

“Actually I was talking about the hooves.”

 

She laughs and he laughs and she would have said something next, though what Leslie has no clue, but Andy and April come home and the moment is over before it really began.

 

***

 

**December, 2011**

 

After that he calls her Lesliemin and there is sexual tension over documents.

 

“It can’t happen, Ann,” Leslie rolls her eyes toward Ann’s arched eyebrow.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because we could both get fired.”

 

“That’s the first time you haven’t used your divorce as an excuse when it comes to Ben Wyatt.”

 

Leslie gives her friend a look, “The divorce is the given. Work is just another screaming detail of why me and Ben have no chance,” she sighs. “No matter how much I want to make out with his face.”

 

“So you do want to make out with his face!”

 

“Yes. Very, very much. But it can’t happen.”

 

“Then I suggest avoiding tensiony, one-on-one situations.”

 

“You’re right.”

 

Of course that is before Chris sends them on a road trip to Indianapolis two days before Christmas to pitch Pawnee for Indiana’s high school basketball state championship. It is also before a blizzard hits the center of the state, closing down the highways, and stranding them at the hotel where they made their pitch. A hotel with only one room left because it is Christmas and Leslie is coming to believe the universe is mocking her.

 

Before all of that happens Leslie was sure she had this. The Ben Wyatt situation was under control. But now she has no idea what the hell is going to happen.

 

***

 

**December, 2011**

 

“Isn’t it a little ironic that it’s the eve before Christmas Eve and there was no room at the inn?” Ben says as he unlocks their hotel room door.

 

“There was room,” Leslie inhales, “exactly one room.”

 

Ben opens the doors and trails off, “with one bed….”

 

Leslie looks over his shoulder and swears. “I thought they said the room had two queen beds.”

 

“That’s definitely a king.”

 

“At least its not the honeymoon suite,” he offers as they set down their stuff. Leslie sinks down into the desk chair and sighs. Ben frowns, “I’ll go back downstairs. There has got to be another room. Or we can call around to other hotels?”

 

Leslie marches to the curtains and sweeps them back. Outside is a swirl of white. If you squint you can make out the awning on the front of the hotel, but that is it. The streets are abandoned and the cars are already buried under 16 inches of snow that fell while they were making their presentation.

 

“It’s fine,” Leslie says. “We’re adults. We can do this.”

 

Ben’s face goes very still, “Do what?”

 

Immediately she regrets her words. She swallows, “Stay in this room together without fighting or crying or…doing other adult things.”

 

“Fighting, crying, or adult things. Are those our only options?”

 

It is the wry look on his face that saves them both. Leslie rolls her eyes and heads toward the bathroom, sweat suit in hand, “I’m going to take a shower. Can you order dinner?”

 

He orders waffles with extra whipped cream. If she weren’t trying to avoid touching him, she might have hugged him right there. She lets her hair dry on its own, the curls fuzzing in the dry hotel heat. Her feet hurt from standing all day and she hadn’t realized until now how tired she is. She sits cross-legged on the bed in her sweat suit and pours maple syrup over her waffles. She looks up when she hears Ben laugh.

 

“What?”

 

“I’m just remembering that time you entered that breakfast food eating contest.”

 

“At the diner down the street from our apartment?”

 

“Yeah. And the final round was you and that six foot-five biker.”

 

Her eyes go round at the recollection, “He must have weighed 350.”

 

“And you beat him,” Ben grins.

 

Leslie shrugs, “The final round was waffles.”

 

“I think I made $500. Everyone thought I was crazy on betting on this tiny blond, but I knew.”

 

Leslie points her fork at him, “Never bet against me and waffles.”

 

“I’d never bet against you period.”

 

His voice is low when he says it. Leslie’s heart squeezes. Ben clasps his hands and looks away.

 

“Ben, you can’t say stuff like that,” she whispers.

 

“Why not?”

 

“Because it makes this so much harder?”

 

“What? Us?”

 

“Yes. Us. It’s hard enough to be around you, but when you say stuff like that I -,”

 

“Hate me more?”

 

“Hate you? I don’t hate you. Is that what you think?” There are so many emotions bundled up in her throat right now. Ben twitches under her gaze and she wishes she could cross to the desk where he is seated. She wishes she could take his hands and interlace them with her own.

 

“Then how do you feel about me?” He says each word carefully.

 

“It’s complicated.”

 

He shrugs. “It’s just me here, Leslie. There’s no one else. At least be honest when it’s just the two of us.”

 

“What is it that you want from me?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Well, I don’t know how to feel about you.” She snaps back and bites down on her lip before she says more.

 

She doesn’t know how she  _should_ feel about him. She knows exactly how she  _feels_  about Ben Wyatt. Her fingers twitch against the rim of her plate just thinking about what it would be like to skim her hand across his chest, to touch the stubble he missed when he shaved this morning, and press her forehead against his. She can practically hear their breath in her mind; it would be heavy before a single piece of clothing was shed. Her breath is ragged now just staring at him.

 

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

 

She studies her dinner, “No it wasn’t.”

 

It had never been hard to be honest with Ben. Since their first date Leslie had been honest with him; the one time she wasn’t had marked the end of their relationship. But she has realized in recent weeks that she hadn’t been honest with herself either. She hadn’t known how to be honest and now she doesn’t know how to be honest all over again. She wants him, but she has no plan. She doesn’t even have an idea of a plan. There are so many reasons why this shouldn’t work, the answer had to be it couldn’t work, right? Is this tipped over, pooling sensation love? Did the fact that is was always Ben Wyatt who did this to her make him the love of her life?

 

He exhales a long, frustrated breath. “I’m going to take a walk.”

 

“But it’s a blizzard out there.”

 

“I’m just going around the hotel.”

 

She stands when he does, but the look he gives her, loaded and pained, stops her.

 

“Please, Leslie. Let me go. I’ll be back in an hour.”

 

“Alright,” she sinks back down onto the bed.

 

And then the door clicks shut and she lets one tear brim. She wipes it away before it can fall though because she doesn’t want to cry. Outside the snowstorm howls and there is no other way to describe it but violent, falling with a mad fury. It is all a bright whirl and Leslie sighs. She’s stranded in more than one way.

 

***

 

**December, 2011**

 

It is more than an hour before Ben comes back to the room. More like three. She goes out into the hall three times before she finally decides to give him the space he wants. He didn’t take his phone, but Leslie knows he is somewhere in the hotel because his coat hangs next to the door.

 

When the door lock turns she sits up in bed. She’s under the coverlet in her sweatsuit. The lights are off, but the curtains are still open. Pale yellow light from the parking lot seeps across the carpet and the television flashes some sort of cooking show on mute. She is almost asleep when he comes back.

 

“Ben?”

 

“Lesssslie.”

 

So that’s where he’s been for three hours. The hotel bar. She sits up and sighs.

 

“Ben, you didn’t need to get drunk.”

 

“Chris thinks I’m depressed.”

 

“You called Chris tonight?”

 

“No,” he laughs, “since we’ve come to Pawnee he thinks I’ve been depressed. He keeps giving me these really disgusting smoothies.”

 

He sinks down onto the foot of the bed and Leslie crawls to sit next to him. They are pressed hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and Ben sags against her.

 

“Being in Pawnee makes you sad?” It breaks her heart to think that. She had thought Pawnee was good for him. He was making friends, getting off the road, and building something.

 

“No.”

 

“Then why does Chris think you’re depressed?”

 

“Because sometimes being near you bums me out.”

 

Leslie exhales and makes a decision. She decides for one night she’s going to not be Ben’s ex-wife and instead she is going to focus on just being his friend. She slides off the bed and onto her knees. She kneels in front of him and takes his right shoe in her hand. She pulls it off and then the left one. She does the same thing with his socks. Ben watches her with a blurred look on his face. She smiles a little at how his hair sticks up everywhere. It really is adorable.

 

“Here, let’s get you out of this suit,” she pushes the jacket of his shoulders. Ben cooperates, but she doesn’t think it connects in his head what is happening. She unbuttons the cuffs of his shirt, loosens the tie, and pulls it over his head. It isn’t until her hands go to unbuckle his belt that his hands fly to her wrists.

 

“Leslie?”

 

Okay, maybe he is more with it than she previously thought.

 

“We’re not going to have sex,” she tips her forehead to touch his. She was right. Their breath is heavy. They fall into a cadence and she bites her lip. “We’re going to sleep and in the morning we’ll find a solution.”

 

“A solution to what?”

 

“To you being sad. I don’t want you to be sad.”

 

“I don’t want you to be sad either.”

 

She skims her hands across his shoulders and holds on tight to his upper arms. When his hands find her waist, she can’t help but exhale.

 

Their faces are still inches apart and she squeezes her eyes shut, “You scare me,” she confesses.

 

It is his turn to reach out for her. He cups her face in his hands and Leslie fists his shirt.

 

“You scare me too.” He says.

 

She nods. That is enough for tonight. It is all to big for anymore confessions. They are to tired.

 

“Ben, let’s go to bed.”

 

***

 

**December, 2011**

 

She wakes up entangled with Ben. Her head rests on his chest and it is the rise and fall of his breathing that lulls her out of her sleep. For half a second she goes still. Ben adjusts his grip on her hip and then she remembers last night and she relaxes against the line of his body. She rubs her bare calf where her sweatsuit has hitched up against his bare leg and burrows her face into his white undershirt.

 

She steals a few moments and lets herself pretend that this is her normal. She and Ben have been married for fourteen years and they stole away to this hotel for Christmas. They aren’t in a generic suite, but something plush and romantic that he rented as a surprise. She gives into the day dream for a few minutes and just lets herself feel without worry.

 

She inhales the scent of him. It is male - soap and sweat and something Leslie always categorized as pencil shavings. She likes it. It is a bit nerdy, but manly at the same time. She lets one hand rub against his stomach and sneak across his hip bone when his undershirt bunches up.

 

“If you keep doing that we’re going to end up doing adult things very quickly,” Ben mutters and it causes Leslie to jump, but his arm steadies her and keeps her pulled close.

 

“You’re awake.”

 

“I am,” he groans, “though now that you’ve stopped touching me I kinda wish I was still asleep.”

 

“Hangover?”

 

“That’s the understatement of the year.

 

Leslie grins, a little too satisfied by that. She sits up and kneels next to Ben.

 

“Why don’t you take a shower. I’m going to go down and raid the continental breakfast and check out the road conditions.”

 

“Or we can go back to the touching,” he leans up on an elbow. She gives him a playful push, but he grips her around the waist and pulls her across him. She can feel, quite decidedly, that every part of him is awake now.

 

“Ben,” she laughs.

 

“What?”

 

“I don’t know what you remember, but nothing happened last night.”

 

“I know,” he murmurs, playing with her hair.

 

“So there are professional lines and once we get back to Pawnee all the reasons why we don’t work will still be there.”

 

“Look outside,” he tips his head toward the window, “It’s hasn’t stopped snowing. We’re not getting out of here today.”

 

“But it’s Christmas Eve day,” she whispers, “I’ve got Secret Santa gifts to deliver.”

 

Ben tightens his grip on her, “Leslie, I don’t know how or why we got here -,”

 

“Chris.”

 

The corners of his mouth tug up, “I’m talking about here, how we found each other aain after so many years and managed to build some kind of friendship. I don’t know why its happening. All I know is I’ve got at least twenty-four hours in a hotel room with the woman I’ve loved my entire adult life. We don’t have to have sex, but I’ll be damned if I’m going to keep hiding how I feel about you.”

 

Leslie feels him breathe the words into her ear. Their faces are so close that she can’t see him clearly. She can make out the line of his nose and way his jaw works even after he stops speaking. Her eyes shutter close.

 

“Do you think this is a good idea?”

 

She isn’t sure she does more than mouth the words into the stillness of the room, but he must have heard her because she feels his chest fill with a deep breath and he guides her chin so they are face to face.

 

“No, it probably isn’t,” his hand slips beneath her tank top and settles in the small of her back. “And if you don’t want then -,”

 

“I want to.”

 

He smiles a little and tries again, “But if you’re uncomfortable we can stop. We’ll go back across that pretend line we’ve been towing for months now and we’ll just be work friends.”

 

His pupils are wide, a deep, bottomless darkness and her rational brain is telling Leslie it is a normal reaction to the dim morning light in the room. His eyes are compensating by diluting the pupils. But she knows that isn’t true. It isn’t low light that makes him take harsher breathes and hold onto her so tight Leslie can feel his stomach contract under hers. It wasn’t why she’s pressed her fingers into the sheets until they are white or why their heads bow closer, so close she can feel his hot breath fan across her cheek. Their noses brush and Leslie’s breath hitches.

 

“Twenty-four hours,” she whispers, “No fears. No past. Just us.”

 

“Twenty-four hours then.”

 

He pauses with his mouth poised a mere fraction of an inch away from hers.

 

He doesn’t kiss her. When he spoke, his lips brushed against hers and the knotted ball of emotions she’d been denying for weeks unfurled and burned through her. But still, he doesn’t kiss her.

 

Leslie gets it. He wants her to take the final step. He wants to know this is happening because they decided it together. He didn’t want it to happen because he kissed her first.

 

Ben’s unbridled enthusiasm for her has always been a turn on, but it isn’t enough to cause her to cross that line. She’s got to want this too. And the truth is when it comes to Ben Wyatt Leslie has always gone with  _screw it._ Everything with him felt to important to play it safe.

 

But it isn’t just her job at stake. It is her heart on the deepest, most personal level. A level that even Ann doesn’t really get. He holds the deepest parts of her. There is no walking this back. Crossing that line again, giving into her impulses again, resurrects the girl Leslie had once been. The girl she had been running from for thirteen years.

 

Was being with him - even for a day - worth that risk?

 

_Screw it._

 

Leslie answers by closing the gap between them.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

**December, 2011**

  
It isn’t a perfect moment.

 

 

Ben unzips her jacket and Leslie pulls his undershirt up, but her wrist gets caught in her sleeve and she almost chokes him trying to tug his shirt over his head.

 

“Ohmygod,” she claps him on the back as he tries to regain breath. “I’m so sorry.”

 

“It’s…okay,” he squeaks, coughing.

 

Leslie swallows, “Did I ruin it?”

 

“Ruin what?”

 

She gestures between them, but Ben picks up her arm still wrapped in the sleeve and tugs her hand free. Leslie bites her lip and finishes pulling his shirt over his head. It sets his hair askew and her free fingers tousle it some more. She can feel his eyes on her as she touches him. His gaze is heavy with want. She shifts away so she can see him fully and when she does he lifts her other hand to kiss each knuckle before pressing his lips to her wrist where her pulse beats.

 

“I guess not,” she whispers.

 

Ben doesn’t say anything. He pushes the straps of her tank off her shoulders and Leslie sucks in a breath right before he pushes her top down completely.

 

_She isn’t twenty-two anymore._

 

The doubt sneaks in there and as soon as she thinks it she wants to scream.  _Get out_ , she tells herself. But it is there now, lodged at the front of her brain. The truth is she is a middle-aged woman who keeps a steady diet of breakfast food and sugar. While she isn’t self-conscious about her body, she does wonder if Ben will notice how much she has changed. Will he compare the girl he’s imagined for all these years to the woman she is now? Will he find her wanting?

 

Ben feels her tension under his fingers because he stills and her top stays on. Leslie ducks her head, but he tips her chin up.

 

“Talk to me,” he rubs her upper arms in a slow, comforting gesture.

 

“It’s just a lot at once.” Her mouth is dry, “I’ve thought about this for months, years, and now it’s here and there is all this pressure.”

 

They have both wanted this for so long so why is it so hard? It had been so easy the first time.

 

Ben exhales, “We said twenty-four hours, right?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Then we’ve got plenty of time. Let’s get to know one another again.”

 

***

 

He takes a shower and Leslie goes down to the front desk to reserve their room for another night. The lobby is full of people shaking snow off and complaining about the closed highway. She raids the continental breakfast and makes two coffees in tall  _To Go_  cups even though they’re not going anywhere. The storm has even blinked out cell towers. This was probably as close to stranded on a deserted island as Leslie was ever going to get. Not that that was a top fantasy of her’s, but there was something exciting about the idea of it. It was like sexy camping.

 

In the elevator she hums  _Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree_  along with the bad music piped in.  She recalls being stuck in that elevator with Ben when he first came to Pawnee and then she remembers even further back to their first kiss. It had been in an elevator. She closes her eyes and remembers Young Ben’s hands running up and down her body. Her hands are hot from carrying the coffee and the steam rises around her. She rubs her legs together and keeps repeating the memory in her mind.

 

They just need to get back to that heady space, to the time when they couldn’t keep their hands off each other.

 

_But…_

 

_What if they have nothing to talk about?_

 

_What if the sex isn’t good?_

 

_What if they hurt one another again?_

 

Leslie doesn’t let herself linger over those questions. Instead she remembers how adorable Ben looked with his hair askew this morning and the way he said, “Talk to me,” in that gravely whisper. She reminds herself as she unlocks their door that they agreed this was just about them. No pressure. No outside world.

 

Just them, the snow, and Christmas.

 

It is a lovely picture if only she could make it happen.

 

***

 

“So what do we do?” Leslie asks over breakfast. She wipes her hands on her thighs. She wants a plan. They had agreed to just go with this for twenty-four hours. No outside world. No worries. But she’s struggling to keep her emotions at bay - the good ones and the hard ones. Her fingers itch to touch him, but the doubts echo in her head at the same time. A plan would make it easier to stem the tide of feelings.

 

They eat at the little table shoved against the window of their room. It isn’t the best view - just a parking lot - but under the snow even lines of cars were kind of pretty. It is a hazy grey out so everything feels quiet and suspended; time itself has slowed for them.

 

Ben sips his coffee and leans back in his chair to look at her. He is back in his undershirt and blue boxers.

 

“Have you seen  _Game of Thrones_?” he asks.

 

“Isn’t that that fantasy book you tried to get me to read when we first got married?”

 

Ben smiles, “You remember.”

 

“Of course I do. You loved those books.”

 

“And you did not,” he reminds her.

 

“I…” Leslie trails off, “I was busy. That was the year I was reading a biography on every first lady in U.S. history.”

 

“And if they didn’t have one you were going to write it,” Ben smiles into his coffee, “I remember.”

 

“Nellie Taft is a woefully under appreciate first lady,” Leslie argues. “She arranged for the planting of the cherry trees in D.C.. She served alcohol at the White House when Prohibition was all the rage. And most people don’t realize this but she suffered a stroke right after her husband took office and spent his entire presidency struggling to serve in her expected role as national hostess.” She wrinkles her nose, “How did we get talking about Nellie Taft?”

 

He laughs, “I’m not sure exactly.” He reaches across the table and grips Leslie’s hand. His thumb strays across her palm and she can see his jaw tighten as he studies their hands interlaced, “I’m really happy to be here with you Leslie,” he says, low and quiet.

 

“I’m happy to be here too,” she says, “with you.”

 

The way Ben’s eyes brighten just then hurts a little in her chest. He told her how he felt months ago. He loved her. Loves her. And a tiny confession from her is enough to send his face soaring. She wishes she wasn’t so tentative. She wishes this time it could be as breathless and perfect as the last time they came together. She wishes that their love story could just repeat cause it had been so perfect.

 

“Why is this so hard?” She groans.

 

“Cause it matters.”

 

“Yeah, it does,” she says and his expression lights up even more.

 

“Come on,” he stands up and tugs her toward the bed. He lets go of her hand and pulls his laptop out of his briefcase. “I’m going to make you watch at least one episode of  _Game of Thrones._ You owe me that.”

 

“I do.”

 

He lays down on the bed and Leslie tucks herself next to him. He pulls the blanket over them and wraps an arm around her.

 

“And if you like it we’ll marathon the season. We’ve got all the time in the world.”

 

Leslie smiles into his shoulder and decides to pretend that’s true.

 

***

 

They watch four episodes curled up in the hotel bed as the snow swirls outside. Outside their door footsteps pad sometimes. The maid comes to leave fresh towels. At one point Ben gets up to go to the bathroom and Leslie stretches her lazy muscles. But otherwise, it is just them and the Seven Kingdoms.

 

Ben kind of geeks out about the whole thing. Like it is obvious he really loves  _Game of Thrones_. He insists Deanerys will become kick-ass; Leslie just has to be patient. And it is kind of adorable how Ben’s favorite character is Sansa.

 

“She’s a survivor,” he retorts, “Like everyone underestimates her. Seriously. Tyrion is the same way. He’s the shit, but people constantly dismiss him. I love how the story gives real power to the least likely characters. It’s so awesome.”

 

“Okay,” she bites her lip to keep from smiling too hard.

 

“What?”

 

“It’s just kind of hot how into this you are. Like you’re all riled up talking about this fantasy show.”

 

“It’s a pop culture phenomenon.”

 

“It’s still kind of sexy.”

 

“Oh yeah?”

 

Leslie answers him by pulling his mouth down to her own. Somehow his computer slides away and Ben rolls over Leslie. He doesn’t squish her, but leans on his elbows as he deepens the kiss. Her fingers wind through his hair and splay down his back. She opens her mouth and she can hear Ben groan in the back of his throat.

 

They make-out like teenagers, hands clasping for clothing and mouths desperate for another kiss, another touch. When Ben takes off her shirt Leslie doesn’t think to be self-conscious. She is too busy tugging on his boxers, but he slows her down long enough to pull back and look at her.

 

“You are perfect,” he says, trailing his fingers over the slope of her breast.

 

She reaches back and unhooks her bra, slides it down her shoulders, and Ben dips his head to her breast. They are on their knees in the middle of the bed, Ben wrapped around her, Leslie pushing against him because she needs the friction. The need is building and she thinks  _This is it…_  when there is a hard knock at the door.

 

***

 

“Mr. Wyatt?”

 

Ben groans against Leslie’s breast. She starts to pull away to find her shirt, but Ben’s hands tighten on her.

 

“If we’re really quiet they’ll go away,” he whispers.

 

Another knock, “Mr. Wyatt, you have a phone call. A Mr. Traeger. He is very insistent.”

 

“I’m going to hide his suppliments.” Ben mutters, but he does release Leslie.

 

“I’m going to step into the bathroom,” she picks her shirt up off the nightstand where it knocked the phone handle off its hook and the concierge suddenly made sense. The pitiful look Ben gives her just before shrugging his own shirt back on makes her laugh.

 

From inside the bathroom she hears Ben answer the door and the concierge’s apology.

 

“He said if he didn’t speak to you himself he was going to ski through the storm to make sure you’re alright.”

 

She listens to phone ring as the call is transferred back to their room. She knows the concierge is gone, but she lingers in the bathroom. In the mirror she studies her flushed skin and mussed hair. It had been a while since she looked like a man had just had his hands on her. She counted the months on her fingers. Eight months since she had kissed Ben in that bathroom. Before that it had been even longer since Dave had touched her. She looks in the mirror and smiles a little. She’s missed looking like this.

 

On the other side of the door she hears Ben try to hide his frustration with Chris.

 

“Yes, Leslie and I are fine. We’re going to just spend the day working.”

 

There is a pause.

 

“No, we’re getting along fine. We’ve found a…way to work things out.”

 

Another pause.

 

“No, you didn’t ruin Christmas by sending us to Indianapolis. I didn’t have plans for the holidays”

 

And then she hears the phone hang up, but she doesn’t move.

 

_He wasn’t going to go anywhere for Christmas._

 

If they hadn’t gotten stuck here he would have been alone on Christmas. It hurts to hear him say it. She’s not sure why it hurts, but the wave of emotions hit her. She can just imagine him in a diner on Christmas Eve, bent over spread sheets, nursing a beer before going home to an empty house because even April and Andy have a place to go for Christmas. It is just so sad and even though she knows it isn’t her fault he is alone it feels like her fault.

 

_They had had a forever._

 

She had been his choice. In all the years since he hadn’t made another choice. Suddenly that fact leaves a pressure in her chest.

 

Leslie had always had Pawnee. She’d had a hometown and family and friends. Not Ben. He’d spent the last thirteen years wandering around looking for what came after  _them_. He’d looked and found nothing.

 

“Leslie?”

 

The bathroom door opens and she tries to hide her face because she is crying, but of course that doesn’t really work. Ben steps into the bathroom and his hands are on her hips and he is asking what is wrong.

 

“It’s Christmas and you didn’t have plans.”

 

“Yeah…” he is confused.

 

“And that’s sad,” she shakes, “Everything between us is sad and I don’t know how to get past that. I want to get past it so much because I want you. I really, really want you, but I don’t want it to be sad. I want it to be perfect. I want it to be like before when we were happy and in love. I don’t want to worry if you’re going to wish I still had the body of a 22 year-old. I don’t want to feel like I ruined your life and I don’t want to wonder what you’re thinking. I want to know this is going to work and my heart isn’t going to get broken and that I’m not going to screw this up cause I’m so afraid of screwing this up and I don’t want to do that because I love you so much,” she steps back from him and her back hits the counter. She presses a hand to her breastbone as it hits her, “I love you so much,” her voice is breathless and she trembles, “I love you so much it hurts. How did that happen?” She doesn’t mean to but she practically yells it at him.

 

“I…don’t know,” he stutters.

 

“Neither do I,” she swallows and then blinks, “Gawd, why do I keep ruining this? I don’t want all these feelings. I mean the loving you bit is great. I want to just take that and throw the others out the window. I want to be able to just let this happen.”

 

Ben holds out a hand and she laces her fingers with his.

 

He steps close enough to brush his body against her. It isn’t sexy as much as it is comforting, a steady reminder that he is here right alongside her. “Why don’t you freshen up and I’ll put clothes on and we’ll go down to the hotel bar. I’ll buy you lunch and we’ll just talk as if we’re on a date.”

 

“Do you think that’ll help?”

 

“This happens exactly how we want it to. No other expectations.”

 

His looks at her steadily and with nervous anticipation. Love for him, for how sweet and patient he is, swells in her. She puts a palm on his chest.

 

“You are a man genius,” she whispers.  _A man genius with a taut, narrow frame like a sexy elf king._  She doesn’t say the last bit, but the thought loops through her mind and gives her all sorts of ideas for later.

 

Ben presses a light kiss against her lips and Leslie feels her emotions slide back to steady. He is right. Waffles will make it better. They always do.

 

***

 

“Ben, do you think we’ve changed much since we were married?”

 

“Some, but I like to think we’re still the same at our core.”

 

“So your fantasy is still a naked Kathy Ireland doing aerobics?”

 

“You know I really regret telling you that.”

 

“Well then what is your current fantasy?”

 

“Here. Now. You really want to talk about this in the middle of a hotel bar?”

 

“Is it really that dirty?”

 

“No, it’s just…well I don’t know. It’s stupid.”

 

“I’ll go first.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah… I mean it’s pretty obvious if you know me.”

 

“Sex scandal in the White House?”

 

“Close.”

 

“Policy debate that functions as double entendre?”

 

“Closer.”

 

“Role playing pivotal political events between world leaders.”

 

“Almost.”

 

“Role playing pivotal political events featuring powerful women.”

 

“Yes! I’ve got different moves for all of them. Margaret Thatcher. Ruth Bader Ginsberg. Elizabeth Cady Stanton is the best.”

 

“You’re  _trying_  to kill me.”

 

“It’s all about a woman being heard  _loudly._  Great stuff. Hey, are you hungry? I’m going to order more waffles with extra whipped cream.”

 

“Leslie, this is torture.”

 

***

 

“Okay, I told you mine. You’ve got to tell me yours.”

 

“My what?”

 

“Fantasy.”

 

“How did you jump back there? We’ve been talking about Pawnee zoning law for the past forty-five minutes.”

 

“Pawnee zoning law. Wamapoke land rights. Significant treaties in Pawnee’s history. Awesome ladies being awesome.”

 

“I love how your mind works.”

 

“You’re avoiding the topic.”

 

“I - ah - it’s stupid.”

 

“Ben.”

 

“Here. I’ll write it on a napkin.”

 

“Seriously? We’re not kids anymore Wyatt.” <Reads napkin> “Really, that’s it?”

 

“Well, there is some talking.”

 

“What kind of talking?”

 

“MaybesomeBatmanIdon’tknowwhateverit’sstupid.”

 

“What does Batman have to do with…punk-ass book jockeys?”

 

“It’s more about the position than anything else….what are you doing?”

 

“Ordering drinks.”

 

“It’s noon.”

 

“I’m going to have to be a little drunk to do this on Christmas Eve, Ben.”

 

***

 

The problem is the hotel bar makes these fruity pink drinks and they are delicious and somewhere between drinks two and four they start swamping Model UN stories and both of them forget about the sex.

 

Okay, that’s not true. Leslie doesn’t forget about the sex and the way Ben looks at her over his beers she doubts he does either. But they’re having fun and Leslie doesn’t want that to stop because the truth is she really loves laughing with Ben. She loves the way his adorable face crinkles up when he smiles and how hot his forearms look with his sleeves rolled up just above the elbow. It’s hot, but it’s more than that. It’s him. It’s the sweet, adorable nerd she fell in love with. He uses his hands when he talks about something he is passionate about and she loves to hear him talk about things he is passionate about because Ben is a passionate guy.

 

He may be skinny and nerdy, but he is romantic and kind and smart. He is the kind of guy who liked her so much that on their first date he just blurted out his feelings. The guy so in love with her he showed up on her doorstep to tell her even when she couldn’t stand the sight of him. The guy who wasn’t scared of her sad, who grabbed her hand and bought her waffles because her being comfortable and happy is more important than getting to the sex. She really likes that guy. She likes being with him and laughing. For the first time since this morning it doesn’t feel like time is pressing in on them. For the first time she believes Ben when he says they have all the time in the world.

 

He tells her about how Cindy Eckhart tried to barter five minutes of making out for a necessary alliance at the state Model UN championships and her heart melts because teenage Ben didn’t cave. It would have been breaking the rules, he says when she teases him.

 

“How did I never hear this story before?” she laughs.

 

He tips back his fifth - sixth? - beer and signals the waiter for another. “I don’t know. We never quite got to Model UN stories. I remember asking to see your flags once and you said something about not being able to share them with just anyone.”

 

She wrinkles her nose. The memories are starting to swim a little. “Was that before or after we were married?”

 

“I honestly don’t know.”

 

“Whatever. Young me was an idiot. I’d share my flags with you any day.”

 

Ben sits up a little when she says that. He bites his lip and seems to make a decision. He waves the waiter away and picks up what is left of Leslie’s fruity pink concoction and downs it.

 

“What are you doing?” She giggles.

 

“Come on. We’re going to make a treaty.”

 

And there is something about how Ben says, “Just put it on my tab,” as he tugs her out of the restaurant that has Leslie swooning. Everything is bright and beautiful and she doesn’t get why she was so angsty this morning. It’s Christmas. If you can’t believe in love at Christmas then when can you?

 

Mariah Carey’s  _All I Want For Christmas_  is playing in the elevator and Ben doesn’t bother to hold the door for the old couple who signals from the lobby. He jams the button to close the door and then Leslie is pressed against the wall of the elevator and it is _perfect._

 

“Blazers,” Ben breathes against her neck as he flicks the buttons of her jacket open, “My fantasy first. Flags second. Blazers third.”

 

“You’re such a numbers robot,” she groans. Ben’s hands are all over her and she’d forgotten how  _wide_  they are. She trembles under them and pulls against his shoulders.

 

He palms her between the thighs and her knees actually pool. If he hadn’t been holding her up, she might have fallen. He hitches her leg up over his hip and bends his knees so their fronts press together and Leslie can feel him right where she needs him. He whispers in her ear, “Wanna hear my favorite accounting joke? Call me Bond. Municipal Bond.”

 

“Ugh, nerd,” she tugs his mouth back down to her own. Jokes are such a stupid way for Ben to use his mouth parts. His tongue slides into her mouth and there is nothing sophisticated about the way they are kissing now. It is all tugging and moaning and really Leslie doesn’t understand why it’s taken them this long to do this. They’ve been in this hotel for 24 hours. Are they stupid or something?

 

 _“All I want for Christmas is…you.”_ Mariah croons and Leslie murmurs her agreement in the back of her throat. It spurs Ben to groan, “Fuck,” against her mouth and Leslie has never felt like such a goddess.

 

The elevator doors dings and it takes every ounce of control she has to grip Ben’s shirt in her hands and steady both of them.

 

“Race you,” she grins.

 

“That would be childish…” he says, but then he is off and Leslie is chasing after him, giggling.

 

By the time she gets to the door he has it unlocked and it bangs shut as Ben leads her backwards into the room. The curtains are open and snow still falls in a brilliant white whirl.

 

Leslie rubs her legs together as Ben’s fingers trip down the buttons of her blouse. She is pulling on his belt and then her knees hit the back of the bed and she sits down. Then Ben lowers to his knees between her legs and Leslie gulps. Her head swims a little from all the alcohol and she fists her hands.

 

“Wait -,”

 

He groans, “Leslie, please.”

 

She cups his face in her palms and kisses him, skimming her tongue over his lips, “I don’t want to be drunk for this. Just let me splash some water on my face. Thirty seconds.”

 

“Thirty seconds.”

 

In the bathroom, Leslie presses herself against the door and breathes deep. This is it. The truth is even with their spectacularly miserable divorce, Ben Wyatt is still the the best man Leslie has ever been in love with. With him everything is heightened. Everything matters more. This is  _it_.

 

She admits it to herself with no plan. No promise of a future and a thousand obstacles in front of them. With Ben, Leslie had always been reckless and wild. The truth is she likes who she is with him. It is easy to be reckless and wild with him because it feels like a natural part of who she is.

 

“Okay,” she tells herself, “this is  _it_.”

 

And she isn’t scared. She glances at herself in the mirror, mused and happy, and she smiles.

 

Taking one last deep breath she turns on the faucet and splashes water on her face and neck. She steadies her arms on the counter and counts backwards by 7’s until the want low in her belly is the only feeling she has. No room for doubts or nerves or sadness.

 

 _This is it_.

 

Except when she comes out of the bathroom she finds a sleeping Ben Wyatt, snoring lightly, in the middle of the bed. He is curled around a pillow and his shirt tails are wrinkled.

 

She can’t help but laugh. Everything is still warm and fuzzy from the alcohol. Leslie groans and contemplates waking him up, but she just can’t bear to. He is so adorable asleep, his lips puckered a little and his hair everywhere. So instead Leslie pulls the coverlet over him and turns off all of the lights. She slips out of her shoes, shrugs off her blazer, and eyes her bag.

 

Ben did tell Chris they were going to spend the day working. It would be smart to get  _something_ done.

 

So Leslie sets to work at the table pushed up against the window. As she waits for her laptop to boot up, she stares out at the snow and then looks over her shoulder at Ben curled up in the middle of their bed.

 

Even though it isn’t perfect, she thinks, even though it is hard there is no where else she’d rather be on Christmas Eve.

 

***

 

When Ben wakes up it is dark. He is curled up in the middle of the bed and it takes a moment for his brain to catch up.

 

Sex. They were going to have sex. They had been trying to have sex all day and he remembers the feel of Leslie’s skin beneath his fingers, her tremble, and the flash of gold when her head tipped back against the elevator wall.

 

 _Fuck_. He fell asleep. Finally, after months - years really - of fantasizing he went and fell asleep.

 

He shifts his head slightly and realizes she covered him up. The small gesture tugs on his gut and he is careful not to make noise as he turns his head to look at her.

 

Her back is to him and she is bent over her laptop at that table. The only light in the room is the blue of her screen and the hazy lamp light that filters in from the parking lot. His brain clicks again and he remembers it is Christmas Eve. She is working on Christmas Eve and he went and fucking fell asleep.

 

She sighs and Ben freezes. She doesn’t realize he is awake and Ben takes a moment to just watch her. He’s spent months watching her. Months across conference tables and in the halls of City Hall. After all those years she’d wandered back into his life, but he couldn’t touch her. He couldn’t act on how he felt because he made her sad. It was the realization Ben came to years ago. Being married to him had made Leslie sad. Neither of them had done anything malicious nor had either of them been completely innocent. The bare and basic truth was being with him had made her sad even if it wasn’t all Ben’s fault. It just was.

 

But then he’d made her laugh.

 

He can’t even remember the first time he heard her laugh after coming to Pawnee. It was probably in one of those meetings or maybe when she proposed the Harvest Festival and he said yes. Her smile had been soft and happy then.

 

But her laughter - that unencumbered delightful cackle - had struck him like a lightening bolt and it had given him hope again. Hope that maybe now being with him wouldn’t make her sad. That they might have a chance at happy.

 

He watches her work, hair skimming across her profile and her legs tucked up under her on the chair. She taps a pen against a pad of paper and Ben can see in the line of her shoulders when she gets an idea. She sits up a little, shifts in her chair, and tucks her hair behind her ear.

 

And he is getting up before he can think about it. He knows Leslie wants it to be perfect. He knows they’ve talked about fantasies and it is Christmas and it feels like the world has stopped for them, but Ben doesn’t care about any of that. He just wants to make her laugh, to feel that happy shiver she makes when their skin touches. It is the damndest thing, that shiver. Ben’s never felt it with anyone else.

 

He gets up and stands next to her chair. She stills when she hears him, but doesn’t look at him. With a finger Ben pushes the laptop shut and picks up the pen she is holding. He drops it onto the table and it rolls away. He captures her elbow and tugs her up until she is standing.

 

There is no sound in the room but the sound of their breathing. Ben traces her lips and the way her eyes widen makes him hard. His finger dips along her jaw and then the column of her throat and finally they look one another in the eye. In that moment they seem to agree - no words, no past, and no doubts. Right now between them is nothing but touch and sensation and very real fact that they want each other and it is Christmas.

 

She gasps when he picks her up. He lifts her onto the table and her legs hitch up over his hips and Ben slips the zipper of her slacks down. She tilts her pelvis and together they get her pants off. He skims his palms across her thighs and feels the muscles tighten under his touch. His own legs clench from the feeling of her responding to him. Her hands are making busy work of their own and he steps back to give her room. She unbuttons his pants and she pushes them down, taking his boxers with them. He steps out of them and grins at the satisfied smirk on her face.

 

Her touch is light and Ben folds himself around her as she touches him, skims her nails across him, and when she takes hold of him he chokes into her shoulder. Her name is on his lips, but he doesn’t say anything. The silence feels important, like a new start for them, something magical and precious.

 

Somehow he gathers his wits enough to tug her blouse over her head, to strip her of her bra, and pull his own shirt off. She helps and he touches her everywhere in between. It is all slow and fast at the same time. Ben closes his eyes and lets himself sink into the silky smoothness of her skin. And then he opens his eyes because he wants to see  _her._ The way he feels right now - as if he is being consumed - would not be possible without her. It isn’t just the weight of her breasts in his hands or the taste of her against his mouth. It is her. Everything she is to him, past and present, begins with the very simple fact that she exists and he found her. Twice. If that isn’t a miracle, then Ben doesn’t know what is.

 

He touches her and she gasps. He hooks his fingers over the lace and she has to slide off the table to get them off. They are pressed - their full lengths - together for the first time with nothing between them and Ben gets an idea. He anchors his hands at her hips and tries to ask her with his eyes  _Do you trust me?_

 

She nods and he pulls her to him. The sensations are hot and fast and somewhere in the back of his brain Ben thinks how next they’ll try it slow, let the sensations build like water rising. But not now. Now it is like fire and he knows Leslie feels it too because she is babbling. She looks at him and the smirk is what does it.  He catches her in his arms, sweaty and heavy, and for a beautiful moment he feels what she is feeling. They finally feel the same thing at the same time, the overwhelming grandness of everything between them.

 

Her breathing slows and Ben lifts his head to kiss her shoulder. It is an absent gesture, but it draws a whimper out of her and all he wants to do is to take her back to bed. Not just for more sex, but to hold her and fall asleep in the lovely stupor of what just happened between them.

 

So that is exactly what Ben does. 

 

Leslie wears the satisfied look of someone who was just thoroughly fucked. She shakes her head a little, “I know we didn’t really role play the librarian-makes-Batman-pay-for-his-overdue-comic-books but I hope that was alright.”

 

“I think you’re making fun of me,” Ben backs toward the bed, bringing her with him.

 

“Oh, I’m definitely making fun of you.”

 

“Well, why don’t we save some of that talking for when you show me your Elizabeth Cady Stanton?”

 

She grins and climbs over him, the mattress dipping with them,“Merry Christmas to you.”

 

“No,” Ben says against her lips, “Merry Christmas to us.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

**January, 2012**  
  
Secretly dating your ex-husband, an ex-husband no one knows about, while also secretly dating your boss who is said secret ex-husband is enough to make Leslie’s head spin.

It is enough to keep her up at night and cause her to wring her hands sometimes at her desk whenever she slowed down long enough to think about what they were doing. 

 

But most of the time Leslie couldn’t slow down, not long enough to think or worry about what her life looked like right now. She was too busy enjoying it.

 

There were secret make-outs in Ann’s office and even better - long planning sessions in Ann’s office where they worked side by side holding hands. It got so hot, all that hand holding, adorable nicknames, and arguing over political strategy that sometimes Ann had to leave the room, though Ben assures Leslie her best friend probably had different motivations for her hasty exit.

 

But it didn’t matter. What mattered was Leslie was in love with Ben and he was in love with her and no one needed to know about any of it. It belonged to them. They were wrapped up in a perfect bubble of wine, Discovery channel, and lots of…cuddling. Yeah, let’s call it cuddling.

 

The point is it was all so perfect. Now if they can only manage to keep it a secret. That’s their only problem in the world.

 

***

 

“How’d you meet Ann?” Ben asks one night.

 

He skims a finger along her ribcage and Leslie shivers through her t-shirt. They’re tangled on the couch with C-SPAN on mute on the television. Each is reading and the pages of Ben’s book sometimes tickles her ear when his arm starts to get tired from holding it up. He must be tired because the book is abandoned now on the floor. Leslie sets down the reports she had been reading and looks over her shoulder. Ben’s hand dips lower to skim her bare thigh and Leslie squirms.

 

“Ben,” she laughs, “we just -,”

 

“I know. Against your front door.”

 

“And then again on the stairs.”

 

“And then there was the bedroom,” he kisses her neck now, the place where her pulse flutters as his hand curves beneath her underwear.

 

“That was all you,” Leslie notes, “doing excellent work I might add.”

 

“You already said that.”

 

“Screamed it actually,” she laughs and turns so they are pressed front to front. She loops her arms around his neck and they make out lazily for a few minutes until Ben’s original question pops back into her head. She breaks off the kiss, “Ann. You were asking about Ann.”

 

Ben tries to follow her mouth, “I don’t want to talk about Ann anymore.”

 

“But it’s a great story -,” Leslie sits up and Ben groans.

 

He runs a hand through his hair and smiles wryly up at her. “Alright. Tell me the story of you and Ann.”

 

Leslie laughs triumphantly and settles back into Ben’s arms.

 

“Well it started like every good thing does - at a public forum…”

 

***

 

Ann waits until Leslie was half-way through her waffles before broaching the topic, which in retrospect Leslie thinks was wise.

 

“So what’s next?”

 

“What’s next?”

 

Ann grips her coffee cup with both hands, “For you and Ben. What’s next?”

 

Leslie glances around JJ’s but there is no one who might hear them.

 

“What do you mean what’s next?”

 

Ann’s shoulder hitch up, “I mean what’s next for you and Ben. You can’t secret date forever.”

 

Leslie blinks. Of course she knows that thy can’t secret date forever. She knows it, but she hasn’t  _really_  thought beyond that honestly. She hasn’t even had  _time_ to think about the bigger picture. Between work and Ben and being Ann’s best friend Leslie’s life has never been so full. It was  _perfect._  
  
But when she looks up the frown lines on Ann’s face just deepen.

 

“What?” Leslie blanches.

 

“I just think you need a plan,” Ann says.

 

“Now you sound like me.” Leslie tries to explain to Ann how her anxiety, her need to  _know_ , had almost ruined Christmas. It had almost preempted her and Ben before they could even get started, but once she let go everything had come together. When it came to Ben not thinking was what Leslie needed because if she thought about it too much then her heart became so heavy, like ice frozen over snow, and the good parts - the feelings and gorgeous fluffy moment  - those were crushed by reality. This all comes out in a rush and when Leslie is finished she looks at her best friend, but her stomach sinks. Ann still wrings her hands.

 

“Leslie, this isn’t like you,” Ann says, “I know you say you’re happy, but I think you’re living in a fantasy. He’s your boss. You could lose your job over this. A job and a career that was partially the reason your marriage to Ben didn’t work out in the first place.”

 

“But Ann last night he brought me an eclair.”

 

“I don’t get it.”

 

“An eclair, Ann!”

 

“Still not getting it.”

 

“I’m happy,” Leslie focuses on her waffles, “Ben makes me happy.”

 

“I’m not saying you should break up with him. I’m saying you two need to talk. You need a plan. Secret dating is not really dating. It’s fun and sexy, but you can’t live on it.”

 

“I don’t know,” Leslie says through a mouth full of waffles, “Eclairs have sugar. I think you could live on that.”

 

“You do know you can’t actually stay alive on a diet of sugar, right?”

 

“Pretty sure you can.”

 

***

 

The problem with having a wise owl as a best friend is that Leslie can’t get Ann’s voice out of her head. The question of “What’s next?” won’t go away. It threads its way into every conversation she has with Ben, but Leslie can’t bring herself to ask it. She just pulls him tighter to her, buries her face in his shoulder, and wishes it was still Christmas. She thinks about the Christmases they’ve spent together and climbs inside those memories.

 

But it isn’t Christmas. Life isn’t Christmas. It isn’t all powdered snow, hot chocolate, and wishes coming true. Rather her life right now, when she stands back to think about it, is a flurry of budget requests, citizen complaints, and anxiety about being found out. All of that is punctuated by the good things - Ben meeting her in the conference room on the third floor, making a snowman with Andy in the courtyard, and starting her crafts for Galentine’s Day.

 

When she steps back to think about it Leslie sees a camel, an odd assortment of good and bad, that makes a very messy picture. She’s happy, but Ann is right it’s an unsustainable happiness. Leslie deserves an answer to “What’s next?” Ben deserves it too. They deserve it together. And while she could pretend her life is pretty much perfect it isn’t. There are frustrations with her job - projects she wants to accomplish that she just can’t in her current position. While a career change isn’t pressing, it is in the back of Leslie’s mind every time she and Ben met covertly somewhere in City Hall.

 

Also, she really wants to be able to just go to dinner with her boyfriend without having to drive to Bloomington.

 

But for some reason all of this stays stifled in her throat. She can’t form the words to bring it up with Ben. He seems so happy and carefree that Leslie doesn’t want to burst his bubble. She doesn’t want to give him reason to doubt. She figures if he isn’t worried then there is no need to broach the topic. There is no need to dump her fears on him.

 

So at night she lies there next to Ben. He snores lightly and Leslie fists the blankets. She stares up at the ceiling and tries to reconcile the messy picture her life has suddenly become.

 

***

 

“So are you going to make me a Valentine’s Day craft?” Ben smiles at Leslie across her dining room table.

 

“Huh?” She looks up from the miniature April doll she is crocheting. It’s really hard to make a frowny face out of yarn.

 

Ben nods at the piles of Galentine’s Day crafts spread out across the table. He’s managed to find a small corner of space for his laptop and city spreadsheets. “For Valentine’s Day, are you making a craft?”

 

Leslie has his present in the closet of her spare room (replica Batman suit) and detailed plans for sexytimes with it later. They already decided to eat in since it would be too risky to eat out on the one night everyone in Pawnee tried to get a table at the same restaurants. Ben was going to cook and Leslie had agreed to eat a salad.

 

“I…I…” she blanches.

 

Ben lifts a shoulder, “It’s okay. I just thought you might be since you’re doing all this….” He gestures at the table and Leslie feels bad. She feels bad because the truth is she hadn’t had any plans for a craft for Ben because the truth is Leslie planned these projects months ago. Galentine’s Day was a constant in her life; Ben, until Christmas, hadn’t been.

 

“I’ll make you something,” she says.

 

He wrinkles his nose, “It’s okay. Seriously. I don’t want you to feel guilty.”

 

 _But I do_ , she thinks. But she doesn’t say it. Like all the other words she hasn’t said, it dies in her throat before she can form the sounds. Ben has already turned back to his laptop and Leslie just watches him.

 

His hair stands on end from where he ran his hands through it. The sleeves of his work shirt are rolled past his elbow and she can see his lips moving as he talks himself through whatever budget problem he’s working on. She frowns because it doesn’t make any sense. What is she doing? Why isn’t she able to talk to him? This is Ben. Her Ben. They used to be able to say anything to each other. Even in those months after she stopped being mad at him, when they started to become friends again, she would talk to him. But now it feels like a stone has been tied to her feet. Leslie doesn’t know how she didn’t think to make him a craft for Valentine’s Day until he brought it up. It wasn’t like her to be so thoughtless. She only knows it is related to that dreaded question, “What’s next?”

 

If only she could answer  _that_  then everything would go back to being perfect.

 

***

 

The answer comes to Leslie when she goes to the pawn shop to find Ann’s present Galentine’s Day (a vintage computer case since the one Mark got her years ago has bitten the dust). It’s right there - nestled in the velvet - where she left it months ago when she sold it.

 

Her engagement ring.

 

She practically runs back to City Hall where she still has the cash in her desk. It’s not enough, but Leslie plucks it and her credit card down and gets her ring back. She doesn’t dare put it on, but all day she can feel the weight of it in her pocket.

 

If they get married it’ll solve all of their problems. Ben can still be her boss and they can be together. It’s not like they haven’t done this once before, she rationalizes, and suddenly she’s never been so happy to be divorced. This wouldn’t work if she and Ben had been to the brink and found their way back again. The second time marriage will be as easy as belief at Christmas.

 

Leslie wears a red dress. She eats the salad and barely remembers that she hates salad because she’s so excited. Ben practically cries when he opens the Batman suit. He tries to hand Leslie her gift, but she shakes her head.

 

“No, there is one more thing,” she exhales.

 

He tips his head, “What?”

 

It’s awkward getting down on one knee in a dress and heels. She can’t watch Ben’s face as she pulls the ring out and takes his hand. If she did she might have anticipated what came next.

 

“Leslie, no.”


	10. Chapter 10

**February, 2012**   
  


“Leslie, no.”

 

 

Ben reaches to help her up, but she pulls his hands off her arms. Ungracefully she rises from her bended knee and as she does her feet shake in her heels and she pretends its because of the height and not her trembling limbs.

 

“Leslie,” he steps toward her and she steps back instinctually.

 

He hadn’t even let her get the words out.

 

Leslie has never proposed to someone before (the first time had been muttered in the aftermath of sex and she never really considered it a real proposal, but rather a mutually agreed dare). She’d never done the get-down-on-your-knee proposal before, but she was pretty sure if they don’t even let you ask the question that it doesn’t count.

 

“Leslie?”

 

“Can you say anything else besides my name?” she snaps.

 

She closes her eyes and feels the tremble shake out through her body. She wondered where it started. Was it her heart? The pit of her stomach? Or was it that voice in the back of her head reminding her that she had been an idiot to think that someone like her would get a second chance at epic love.

 

When she opens her eyes Ben is watching her with a heavy gaze. She feels the tears coming and she just can’t. She’s so tired of crying about this, about him. She turns away and he grabs her elbow. The touch isn’t light, but possessive and desperate and something switches in Leslie. It’s as if the emotion is a two-sided coin and her sadness spins and lands anger side up.

 

“Don’t. touch. me.” she pulls his fingers off her arm and backs away. In the back of her head she hears the box with her engagement ring hit the floor when she drops it.

 

“Fine,” Ben holds up two hands, “but please don’t run. We need to talk about this.”

 

Leslie laughs, “There’s nothing to talk about. I was going to ask you to marry me and you stopped me.”

 

“This isn’t fair.” His nostrils flare. “You haven’t even let me explain.”

 

“I think no pretty much sums it up.”

 

“Goddamit Leslie, you just sprung this one me. We’ve been back together two months.”

“You’re seriously going to act like this is a normal relationship? We were married Ben.”

 

“I know,” he throws his hands up, “We all know. You never let us forget.”

 

If the earth opened up right now Leslie is pretty sure falling through it would hurt less than how she feels now. It must be all over her face because Ben cringes as soon as the words leave his mouth.

 

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes, “It’s just we’re just starting to find each other again and you keep bringing up the past. It’s like when you look at me all you see is our divorce,” his shoulders sag, “I just want time. I want the time we didn’t give ourselves the first time.”

 

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she whispers. “It’s like last time all over again. You want something from me I can’t give.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Leslie balls her fists, “I can’t let it go.”

 

“Let what go?”

 

“I failed.”

 

“Failed what?”

 

“Me,” she jabs a finger at herself, “I failed me. I’m not the me I wanted to be and I can’t get past that. You want me to let it go, but I just can’t.”

 

“Oh, Leslie -,” Ben’s voice catches when he says her name. His shoulders sag and she can see the hurt her admission caused. It’s right there on his face and in the tone of her name on his lips. It didn’t hurt him bodily; her hurting was what hurt him. Seeing that reflection - seeing it and hearing it - pushes past whatever control she has left.

 

“I don’t like my life,” she trembles.

 

The tremble in her limbs finally escapes and Leslie breaks her promise to herself. The tears spill over and she shakes from them. Her hand gropes for the couch and she has to lean both palms on the armrest to hold herself steady. She cries and Ben doesn’t move to touch her. He stands rooted in his spot and Leslie hunches over as the words and emotion that have been stuck in her throat since Christmas finally dislodge themselves from that heavy place in her chest.

 

She cries until she’s not even sure exactly why she is crying. Every bit of her is sad. Some of it is an old sadness and bits are newer, but they rise up and break through the surface of her calm, of her hope, and her belief. It is anger and regret and shame and foolishness. As she cries Leslie has the thought that this is right. It feels good to cry. When she feels herself slowing down she forces herself to to keep going. She wants to dry out all her tears. She wants them gone. And Ben can do nothing but stand there and watch.

 

And finally after twenty minutes she stops. She stands and looks at him, but he’s blurry. Her eyes are puffy and swollen, “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” she says. She lifts a fist and holds it to her lips as she tries to steady her breath, “I wasn’t supposed to have this life.”

 

“What kind of life?”

 

“A broken one.”

 

Ben’s brow furrows,”What’s broken about your life?”

 

She shrugs half a shoulder, “I was going to be president or at least mayor. I was going to change the world. Fall in love. Get married. Have a family. Be a friend. I was going to do things.”

 

“And besides elected office which of those things hasn’t happened?”

 

Leslie hugs her stomach and shifts in her heels. Her feet hurt. The evening hasn’t exactly gone the way she planned it. He said no and she’s ugly cried. Screw it, she thinks and slips out of her shoes and collapses onto her couch. Tentatively Ben sits half a cushion away from her.

 

“None of it feels right,” she says, “I always thought if I did those things then I’d be happy.”

 

“Are you unhappy?” Ben looks at his lap, “I mean besides the total and - might I add - very impressive breakdown you just had...besides just now are you really unhappy?”

 

“No.”

 

“But you’re not happy?”

 

“I don’t know,” Leslie groans and drops her face into her hands, “I just thought it would feel different.”

 

“What?”

 

“My life. I thought it would look a different way. I thought I’d be a different person.”

 

“And what kind of person is that?”

 

“Someone who didn’t get a divorce.”

 

Ben quirks his head, “You do know half the marriages in this country end in divorce. My parents got divorced. Ron’s been divorced twice. Tom’s been divorced. In fact the only person among your friends who is happily married is Jerry.”

 

“Dammit Jerry,” Leslie drops back into the couch cushions. She feels Ben relax next to her. He still doesn’t touch her, but he does sit back and rest his arm along the back of the couch. Her hair slides against his forearm.

 

“Leslie, it was just a divorce. It doesn’t define you or me or even us now.”

 

She doesn’t look at him though she can feel his gaze trained steadily on her.

 

“I know,” she whispers.

 

“Then why do you feel like our divorce ruined everything for you?”

 

It pains her to hear him say it like that. She wants to correct and assure him that really she’s blowing this out of proportion, but she doesn’t.

 

“Remember what I said about our wedding song?”

 

“Our wedding song was ‘Unbreak My Heart.’” Frown lines appear on Ben’s forehead, “It might have been the worst wedding song ever. The guy literally dies at the beginning.”

 

“What I said was that epic love always includes trials.”

 

“Yeah…”

 

“And we failed. I failed,” she can’t look at him when she says it. She picks at the lace on her dress. She tugs at it and stares hard at her hands as she turns the confession over in her head - she failed. When faced with something scary, something hard, Leslie Knope hadn’t risen to the challenge. She hadn’t problem-solved. She had taken the coward’s way out and run. She’s pretty sure she’s been running ever since.

 

For all her talk of big dreams could she really say she’d done anything to make them a reality? Sure she worked hard, but what was she working toward? She was a mid-level bureaucrat in one of the least essential departments in Pawnee. Since Ben she’d had a series of relationships she knew were never going anywhere. She spent years hung up on Mark. She’d set out to build a park and it still hadn’t happened.

 

The reality is Leslie Knope is a lot of hot air. Talk and no substance.

 

Ann had been right - secretly dating Ben is just another stalling tactic. Whatever happiness they find can’t last. When she said her life was pretty much perfect she’d been fooling herself.

 

She’s so lost in her thoughts that Leslie doesn’t feel Ben move beside her until his arms pull her onto his lap. She doesn’t resist. She lets him curl her up tight in the curve of his chest. She doesn’t cry. There aren’t any more tears left. The sadness has wrung out. All Leslie has left is honesty.

 

“You didn’t fail,” Ben tucks a curl behind her ear, “Or if you did you had help. We failed spectacularly together.”

 

“But I’m not allowed to fail,” she whispers, “not if I’m going to be happy.”

 

“That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard you say.”

 

She can’t help it, she smiles into his shoulder.

 

“Ben?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Always.”

 

***

 

“So you thought proposing we rush headlong into marriage again was a good idea?”

 

They lay in bed later that night, tangled up together. They didn’t have sex. It had been too heavy of a night for sex. Ben had tentatively asked Leslie what she wanted him to do - go or stay - and she linked her fingers with his and pulled him upstairs. They didn’t talk as they brushed their teeth and climbed into bed. Silently Ben handed her the novel she left on his side of the bed and picked up his iPad to check his favorite message boards one last time. And when Leslie yawned he put the ipad away, turned off the single light still on next to him, and scooted down into the pillows. She curled herself around him, holding tight onto his middle, and laid her head right above his heart. His fingers played idly with her hair and Leslie tried not to think about how much she loved it when he touched her like that.

 

Then he asked his question and she took a long time to figure out how to answer.

 

“Ann thinks we need a plan. That secret dating is like eating just sugar. It’s not sustainable.”

 

“If anyone could survive off sugar it’d be you,” Ben laughs and Leslie smiles into his chest.

 

Being with him does feel like sugar, like candy and Christmas and all the things that are too special for daily life. They have to be rationed out and saved for certain times of the year.

 

“She’s right,” Leslie whispers, “we need a plan.”

 

“And getting married was your plan?”

 

Leslie rests her chin on his chest, “It’d solve a lot of problems.”

 

Ben sighed, “When we got married it was because we were in love. We may not have thought it through. We may have been naive to how hard it was going to be. But it was always because we loved each other and we wanted to be together forever.”

 

“And now ?”

 

Ben raises his head and strokes the side of her face with a two fingers, “Leslie, I’m in love with you and I’m not going anywhere, but I don’t want to get married to you just to solve a problem. I’m proud of the fact that I married you the first time because I wanted to be with you. And I’m not going to settle for anything less this time around.”

 

“We still need a plan.”

 

“I agree.”

 

“And tonight - what I said about being happy but unhappy too?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“That was real.”

 

“I know.”

 

“Can we talk about it? I don’t want to feel like that anymore. I don’t want to feel like a failure anymore.”

 

He pulls her in tighter and kissed her forehead hard as if overwhelmed though Leslie didn’t understand why.

 

When Leslie looks up at Ben there is a fierceness in his eyes, “Leslie, I’m not perfect and I’ve made mistakes, but never once have I ever thought of you as anything short of remarkable. We can talk as much as you want. I’ll do whatever you need just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

 

“You won’t run without asking me to come with.”

 

“Deal.”

 

***

 

In the morning, Ben is gone before she gets out of bed. He leaves a note on his pillow reminding her that he had an early meeting with Chris and promises to call when he’s done.

 

Leslie lingers in bed, half-asleep and half-awake, and replays the things she said last night. Some of them surprised her and some didn’t.

 

The fact is that when she was young she believed that if you worked hard your life would turn out like Christmas. Everything would be special. Everything would look the way she imagined it. But that hadn’t happened and the hardest truth to face is that she is disappointed in herself. If only she’d been braver. If only she’d lived up to her own expectations. If only...if only...if only…

 

Leslie groans into her pillow.

 

Regret was a downward spiral that she doesn’t need this morning. Waffles is what she needs. With as much optimism as she can muster, Leslie gets out of bed and wraps herself in her fluffiest robe. She takes the steps two at a time and recites her favorite parts of Eleanor Roosevelt’s speech on human rights to the General Assembly in 1948. When she gets to the kitchen she stops. Before he left Ben must have cleaned up their dinner because her kitchen is spotless. He’d wiped the slate clean for her and her heart tugs when she thinks of how early he must have gotten up to do so.

 

Leslie pulls out her favorite waffle maker and flips through her Blazer Emporium catalogue as it heats up. She texts Ann fifteen times about going to see a movie later and jots down a few ideas for her next big project. Leslie is so focused on getting back to the things that make her happy that she doesn’t notice that the little box with her engagement ring is not on the floor where she dropped it last night.

 


	11. Chapter 11

“Where do you want to start? I mean we could begin with my mom and my driving need to impress her. Or my idealism. That one is fun cause its always a disappointment. Then there’s the fact that I’m in my mid-thirties and other than a failed marriage I haven’t had a serious relationship.”

“You mean since.”

 

“No, I mean ever. Men tend to dump me unceremoniously.”

 

“That must hurt.”

 

“No, not really. I’ve got too much to do. Ron, my boss, would say that my greatest weakness is how much faith I put in people. He thinks people are idiots. And my co-workers would say I have boundary issues. If you asked him Ben would probably say-,”

 

“Who’s Ben?”

 

“My secret-boyfriend and secret-ex-husband. Also, my boss.”

 

“Alright.”

 

“Ben would say that I put too much pressure on myself, which I don’t think is fair because he does the same thing with himself. He can’t even bring himself to go ice skating...I’m a hoarder. That’s got to mean something is wrong with me, right? I can make rash, emotional decisions that usually undermine my goals and sometimes if someone tells me no I throw a fit or run away like a child. And I don’t have realistic expectations from life. I routinely say I’m going to be president and I mean it. I really think it could happen. And I don’t -,”

 

“Leslie.”

 

“-think that the FDA is telling us the entire truth about sugar. It can’t be that bad for you. Just putting that out there.”

 

“Leslie.”

 

“Sometimes I get these weird pains in my legs. It’s like a sprinkler is going off in my kneecap. Is that normal? Should I see a doctor about that?”

 

“Probably. But I’m not that kind of doctor.”

 

“Right. Though that would be convenient. Part-therapist, part-orthopedic surgeon. You could counsel people who jump out of planes and their parachutes don’t open. Fix your bones, fix your brain in one visit. My friend Tom could come up with a marketing campaign. He’s great at that. People would be beating down your door.”   They’ve got to have PTSD or something.”

 

“Those people would likely be dead.”

 

“Yeah, they would be hard to counsel...unless you believed in ghosts. Do you believe in ghosts? Because if you do I totally respect that even if I think it’s nonsense.”

 

“Leslie.”

 

“I mean if you suggested a senance as part of therapy I might be -,”

 

“Leslie.”

 

“nervous about hauntings.”

 

“Leslie.”

 

“Though if Joe Biden haunted me I’d be down for that.”

 

“LESLIE.”

 

“What?”

 

“Should we get started?”

 

“Yeah, whenever you’re ready. Whatever issue. I’ve got a lot. Here I made you a list. I put it in a binder so we’d each have one. I designed a logo too. Leslie Knope’s Brain Train-ing. Get it?...You don’t have to pick off it. Ann says I can be a steamroller and that’s not what I’m trying to do here. I’m just trying to ensure that this time is productive because I need to fix it.”

 

“Fix what?”

 

“I don’t really know. Me? Maybe? Though I don’t think so. I like me.”

 

“That’s good.”

 

“So where do you want to start?”

 

“Where do you want to start?”

 

***

They know they need to tell Chris.

 

They spend the whole weekend avoiding it, but when Ben runs around the house trying to find his tie Leslie forces herself to bring it up.

 

“Yes,” he says it before she’s finished her sentence.

 

“Just yes? What about your job? You’re the supervisor. Won’t Chris come down hardest on you?”

 

“Leslie, I don’t want to hide how I feel about you. Not anymore.”

 

“Then let’s do it,” she laughs and he hugs her. They’re both half dressed and she’s holding a waffle. Syrup drips down her wrist. “It might not be that bad.”

 

“Oh, it’ll be bad,” Ben pulls back, “but it’ll be worth it.”

 

Leslie chooses to believe Chris will be happy for them. She chooses to believe that he’ll rejoice that his best friend and partner is happy, that he’s found someone who makes him happy.

 

Leslie is wrong.

 

Ben’s ethics trial begins Monday.

 

***

 

“I want to talk about forgiveness.”

 

“Oh, I forgave Ben years ago. He never actually did anything with that woman.”

 

“I’m not talking about Ben. I’m talking about you. Do you feel like you’ve forgiven yourself?”

 

“Yes. I was young and in love. I shouldn’t have rushed into marriage like that. We should have taken more time.”

 

“No, I’m talking about the end of your marriage. Have you forgiven yourself for that?”

 

“I don’t know what you mean.”

 

“You’ve said you failed.”

 

“Isn’t that what divorce is? A failure?”

 

“I don’t know. Is that what it is to you?...Leslie, is it?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

***

 

The night before Ben’s trial they talk about the future. Not their future, but the future they imagined for themselves when they were kids.

 

Hers? President.

 

His? Family. Home.

 

Now? Being together. A clean slate.

 

***

 

“Why haven’t you told anyone about your divorce?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Do you feel like its a stigma?”

 

“Not really. One of my closest friends has been divorced 3 times.”

 

“So then why?”

 

“I think cause I wanted it to go away.”

 

“For what reason?”

 

“I think I was afraid I’d screwed up my life. Like I was supposed to have stayed on that path and I got off too early.”

  
  


***

 

Leslie sits on the bench out of Ben’s hearing and her friends sit with her. She grips a binder tightly in her hands. It’s a binder of evidence that she put together for Ben, but he shook his head and said no.

 

“Leslie I was the supervisor. I should have disclosed the relationship and I didn’t. It’s okay.”

 

But it’s not okay. It’s not because she did this too. It’s not fair for him to pay for her mistakes as well as his own.

 

Ron comes to sit with her and he doesn’t say anything. It’s the best advice she’s ever gotten from him.

 

Ann brings her candy necklaces and holds her hand.

 

Andy plays his guitar, April tweets, and Tom does his nails. They don’t say anything, but they know now. It comes out during the trial and she can hear people talking about it as they pass her in city hall.

 

“Knope and that guy from the state government. I guess they used to be married and she used that to get funding for the Harvest Festival.”

 

“I knew there was something off about her. No one just gets a doors like that to open up for them.”

 

They say it as if she’s not there and as she sits there she grips the binder she put together of her and Ben’s relationship right down to the menu from their first date - that time they got stuck in the elevator.

 

She stares at it and thinks of her life and the complicated turns its taken. She used to dream of being immortalized in one of those murals in City Hall. She’d be part of the history tour that future little school children would take. Perhaps she would even inspire someone.

 

She still wants that. She still plans on that.

 

But maybe her dream should be bigger.

 

***

 

“Have you ever failed spectacularly Leslie?”

 

“There is no such thing as a spectacular failure.”

 

“Yes there is. A forest fire burns down trees, but often what grows up in its wake is stronger and healthier than what was there before.”

 

“I don’t think I’d be able to fail spectacuarly. I don’t know what that would even look like.”

 

“You should think about it.”

  
  


***

 

“Leslie, are you sure you want to do this?”

 

“Yes. I’m sure. I want to take full responsibility for my relationship with Ben. I hereby tender my resignation from the Parks department.”

 

***

 

“Have I ever told you the story of the time my co-workers and I made a camel?”

 

“No, you haven’t.”

 

“Well the city manager’s office challenged each department to design a new mural and of course I wanted to win because what’s better than winning?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

“Not a whole lot. So we tried to design this mural and we all had these plans, but it was a total mess and we didn’t win.”

 

“Why did you want to tell me that story, Leslie?”

 

“Cause the point was that it was us - my friends and my department. This messy, frankly disgusting mural was us and that’s what is important.”

 


End file.
